


Fugitive

by Girlobsessed21



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clarke is a bit weak at the start. Don't @ me, Dark Bellamy, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fight Club References, Fighter!Bellamy, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Plot, Protective Bellamy, Smut, Sorry if i missed something, There are one or two bad scenes, This fic is not for the faint of heart., Trust Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-01-11 22:18:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18433232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girlobsessed21/pseuds/Girlobsessed21
Summary: Clarke is running away from something or someone. Bellamy tries to help her, but she can't trust anyone.





	1. On the run

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags before you dig into this. It is a bit dark, but there are some good love scenes as well.  
> It is basically complete, so updates should be weekly. Every Friday or Saturday.

**Chapter 1**

There was never a time in Clarke’s former life she had felt more wretched than the moment she got out of that taxi. It was pouring. The struggle to open the umbrella had her soaked. Her bag got wedged in the door and limped behind the taxi as she watched it drive away. But that was nothing compared to what she saw next. The memory, carved into her brain.

She took another sip of her drink. That night she was only in the wrong place at the wrong time, which led her here. Drunk. But not drunk enough, in a lousy little pub that smelled like spilled beer. It had a touch of class though. The interior was completely wooden, which gave her the sense of a log cabin. Behind the bar was a whole display of modern moonshine. Yellow walls decked with records and photos of customers having a blast.

The place was flooded with locals, where everyone knew everyone except for her. Some unfamiliar country song sounded from the jukebox. Well-known to everybody else apparently, because the girls dragged their boyfriends to the dancefloor.

“Fill me up.” She pushed the glass forward.

“What’s your name?” asked the bartender.

“Who wants to know?” she said because there were several people after her that required an answer to that question.

“It’s the third night in a row you’re in here, never seen you here before.”

“I’m only passing through.”

He nodded and filled her glass. When people started asking questions, it was time to go. Time to move on to the next hideous little town in the middle of nowhere. Her cash was slowly depleting; she would have to find a job soon, which meant a fake ID first.

“What’s your deal?” she asked the barman. “You from around here?”

“Born and raised.” He continued wiping down glasses.

All she needed was a name. He seemed like the type that could point her in the right direction. Dangerous. Five foot ten of tan, toned muscles. Dark curly hair and mysterious eyes.

“Drag racing or cage fighting?” she challenged.

He leaned down on the counter, eyeing her. “You don’t even want to let me in on your name.”

“Because I want to change it.” Why she said that was a mystery, but it felt like the right thing to do.

“Hmmm, running away from something, huh?”

Avoiding his question, she added, “Can you help me?”

“Come to my fight tomorrow night, I think I know someone that can help.”

She gulped down the last of her whiskey and clinked it on the counter, signaling another. “Where’s this fight?”

“Meet me here at six.” He poured her drink.

Her head was properly buzzing, her surroundings lapsing. The world pivoted into the black hole she constantly craved. And she didn’t stop there, she kept drinking until she found herself in the toilet, spewing her guts out. If she could only forget. If she could just turn back time and get on a different plane. But it never left her, it kept lingering all the time.

“Hey, will you be able to get home?” The bartender peeked in the door.

“I’m at a motel,” she slurred. “Just down the road.”

“Can I help you get there?”

She didn’t want his help but needed it. “Thanks.”

He stretched his hand to help her to her feet. The benevolence in his eyes fueled a fire inside.  His life was clearly far from perfect, yet he felt sorry for her. She clung to him on the walk, unable to remain vertical, pathetic. But drinking was the only way to rid her of the image that shadowed her. Haunted her. She had to get better. In this state,  _he_ would find her.

“This is me,” she said once they reached the motel. “I’ll be okay.”

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“Probably not.” She turned to leave. While fumbling for the key in her bag, she felt his presence behind her. He was waiting until she was safe. The key and the hole just wouldn’t line up.

“Here, let me help,” he reached for it.

Once it was unlocked she stumbled inside. Without thanking him, she grabbed the key and slammed the door shut. _I’m not some helpless little princess in need of a knight in shining armor._ She crawled to the bed and lay atop the crummy sheets, allowing the night to swallow her whole. When morning came, she would feel the after-effects of this shadow-less, ghost-less stupor, but for now, she reveled in it.

***********************************

The first rays of morning taunted her through the small gap in the dusty maroon curtains. She was nowhere near ready to open her eyes, but it was time to vanish. The bathroom called her for two reasons, the weight in her bladder and the stale vomit in her throat. She managed to sit-up, only just. The room still spun. Like a piece of iron, she stood between two magnets, one being the bed and the bathroom was the other. No matter how hard she tried to stand, the intoxication was still present, the pull of the bed too strong. She fell back down, ignoring her urges.

After a few more hours of sleep, she was finally able to emerge. The bed was now disgraced with a mix of whiskey and bile. The sight made her want to hurl again, it disgusted her, _she_ disgusted her and it was all _his_ fault.   

Somehow Clarke managed to clean herself up. With vehemence, she scrubbed the night away, draining the stickiness that still clung to her long dark waves. Of course not her natural hair color; she used to be a blonde. _He_ used to love her golden locks. With the scrape of dignity, she had left; she washed the bedsheets in the shower, packed her meager belongings and checked out. As she unlocked the car, fear tormented when someone touched her. He had found her. The touch drained the life from her, she nearly fainted before she saw the face of her invader. A familiar face, but not him, the bartender.

“Glad to see you’re okay,” he said.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were completely out of it last night.”

Small flashes of the night returned. He was here, at her door. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you, I was worried.”

Pity, she detested pity. “Why?”

“It seems like you’re alone in this world. I’m not sure what’s going on, but you sure look like you could use a friend.”

Clarke wondered whether he had somehow caught on to her identity. It would be the only reason for him to be this nice. It wasn’t normal for anyone to act this way – rescue damsels in distress that were complete strangers. “I can’t remember what happened last night, but whatever it was, forget about it. I’m leaving.”

“Where you going?”

“Home.” A complete lie, she didn’t have a home, it was taken from her.

When she turned back to the car, he grabbed her by the arm and said, “Listen, I can see there’s something wrong with you. You don’t have to tell me what, just let me help you. I can get you a job at the bar, and I have a decent couch to sleep on.” His earthy eyes pleading as they locked onto her blue ones.

“Why?”

“Because I’m crazy and you, well you’re batshit crazy.”

That got a chuckle out of her, she wasn’t supposed to trust anyone, wasn’t supposed to stay in one place for too long. Her circumstances now called for the nomad’s existence, but he was right, she could sure use a friend – rather an accomplice. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“What,” Clarke raised an eyebrow. “You changed your mind?”

“No, just thought you’d be much harder to persuade.”

“So what now?”

“Follow me to my apartment.”

The bartender motioned for Clarke to enter: _Ladies First._ She felt like the word idiot was written on her forehead - in capital letters with an exclamation mark. Without even knowing the guy’s name, she was about to move in with him. The place looked more fitting for dwarves. The living room and kitchen sparred into one. A couch, chair, flat screen, and X-box was squeezed in on the one end of the sitting room, while the other held weights and a punching bag. The beige walls had a few alcohol and rock posters - hardly any light drifted in from the single window.

The kitchen had two sets of cupboards and barely held the stove, ancient fridge, and microwave – almost like the straining top button over a set of fake boobs. A narrow hallway led from the kitchen to the other rooms. The screaming white tiles of the bathroom was a stark contrast to the rest of the place. A low double bed with worn-out sheets and a chest of drawers the only furniture in the bedroom.

 _Welcome Home,_ she thought. If she wasn’t desperate, she would never have considered it, but she needed a fake ID and a job and well, he was providing both.

“So what do you think,” he asked. “I mean it’s not much, but it keeps the cold out.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine.”

Clarke still couldn’t understand why he was being nice to her. She didn’t see any news about herself lately, but it was possible Mr. Bartender had figured it out. At first, she was all over the news and _his_ fake tears spilled on every type of media. She tried to avoid it; only made sure that they had no leads on her.  It hadn’t been that long, but breaking news had an expiration date.

“I’m Karen,” she extended her hand.

He shook her hand with a chuckle. “Bellamy Blake.”

They stood in the middle of his room, looking at each other like two idiots, until he finally broke the silence, “You can sleep in here, I’ll take the couch.”

His inexplicable goodwill made her uneasy, red lights flashed in her head. He was either sent to find her or trying to cash in on the rewards. “You know what, on second thought, I’d rather just stick to my original plan.”

“Yeah, and what is that?” he said with narrowed eyes, daring her to counter with a plausible idea.

“I have a cousin in Mississippi.”

“Look, Karen, I know that’s not your real name, I’m trying to help you here. My guess is you’re running away from the law or an abusive husband. If it’s the latter, good for you. I get it, I’m a sketchy bartender with a hole-in-the-wall apartment. My sister was murdered by an abusive boyfriend, that’s why I’m doing this. I couldn’t help her, but I can help you.”

She stared him down, trying to pinpoint the lie on his face, but his eyes were soft. Sympathetic.

“Am I right?” he asked.

“No. Show me?”

“Show you what?”

“Your sister, give me proof.”

He opened the bottom drawer and retrieved a large brown envelope. “It’s all in there.” He handed it to her.

Clarke reached inside and removed the contents. Newspaper clippings, photos, text messages, reports, and a heart-wrenching eulogy proved his statement.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I. I loved her, so much. And she was ripped away from me by an asshole who thought he could control her.”

His words seemed sincere, his face pained when he spoke about her, the red lights gaining a glimmer of orange. “It’s difficult for me to trust people.”

“Give me a chance. Let me make up for failing my sister.”

“How do you plan to help? I can’t replace your sister.”

“No, but I can give you a job, help you change your identity, give you a safe place to live.”

She smiled. “No offense, but this place hardly seems safe.”

“Touché.”

“This is so hard.” She rubbed her palms over her face. “I want to trust you. I do need someone, but…”

“But you can’t. What can I do to prove I’m telling the truth?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry!” She grabbed her bags and bolted.


	2. Can't trust anyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter. I was just too eager to post. Thanks for the comments and kudos on the previous chapter. Brace yourselves for this one. It was very hard to write, but there's a small lesson contained in it.

**Chapter 2**

Clarke just drove, unaware of her surroundings. The owner of the rusty red truck she had bought, was more than happy to sell it to her for the generous amount she offered in hard cash. _It was a mistake._ The feeling gnawed its way from the pit of her stomach to her throat. _He wanted to help you._ If only he could be trusted. If only she could allow herself to confide in anyone. The trees mocked her as she went past; the cars giggled and the heaving trucks gossiped.

She did not know how she would be able to survive much longer. Finding a job meant settling. Ironically, she had lots of money in her account, funds she couldn’t access. Any transaction on her credit card would be an automatic smoke signal. 

All she had was the cash she hid in case of emergencies, which did not include that incident. Her list of predicaments comprised of the banks being offline, a power outage, hell even an apocalypse crossed her mind. The dread surfaced again, spiking her need for another drink. S _top drinking,_ the angel on her shoulder ordered. _Whatever, you know it ain’t happening. She needs it to escape,_ her inner bad girl argued.

 _Am I an alcoholic now?_ It was a fair question since she hadn’t had many sober days for the last couple of weeks. She had always enjoyed a glass of wine while cooking and hanging out with her friends, but now she had taken it to the extreme - she drank to get drunk. Alcohol provided the out she needed.

A sign next to the road displayed that it was ten miles to the next town. One thing all these small places in North Carolina had, was a bar. She took the exit and a quick google search revealed a motel not too far away. After checking in, she drove around until the truck came to a stop in front of the “Tipsy Hour Dive Bar”. It was quiet inside save for the reggae background music. Clarke checked her watch. It was just past three in the afternoon; the lunch customers had already cleared out. The silence was welcome. Exactly what she needed for her highway to blankness.

The bar looked like something one would find in Jamaica. It had a Kingston theme with hubblies on the counter and a waft of weed in the air. _Maybe I should try that. It’s better than getting drunk._ Clarke had smoked it once or twice in college and never took a liking to it. _Maybe later,_ she decided.

She took a seat at the bar and started slow. “Can I have a beer, please,” she asked.

“Coming right up,” the bartender smiled.

She drank one after the other, her “mistake” mulling through her mind. The light turned dark, the noise increased as the crowd picked up and so did her haze. Clarke noticed it was mostly young people that hung out there, some of them not even legal. Guys with sports jackets, girls in crop tops and miniskirts; begging to be taken advantage of.

She felt like Paddington bear when he first arrived in London among these people. Not that 24 was all that old.

“Don’t mind them,” a guy next to her said. “They think the place belongs to them ‘cause they’re best at football and basketball. I’m Finn.” He offered his hand.

She shook it, “Melissa.”

“Well, Melissa, what brings you to town?”

The thought of a broody bartender came to mind, and she used it as a ruse. “I had a fight with my boyfriend, just needed time on my own.”

“Did he cheat?”

She snickered. “No, actually he did nothing wrong, it’s me.”

His brown eyes lit up as he laughed, the locks of his dark, chin-length hair falling into his face. “The infamous ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ phrase.”

“I have some commitment issues.”

“Come on,” he tested. “What did you not like about him?”

“Nothing. I don’t wanna talk about that, let’s rather talk about you. Let me guess, you are a traveling salesman from Brooklyn. You sell contemporary art.”

“Not even close.”

They drank, laughed and for the first time in a while, Clarke had a good time. They took the game to the rest of the room, guessing who had slept with whom. After a few hours of playful banter, Clarke realized she had to stop drinking to avoid a repeat of the previous night. “Guess it’s time for me to go.”

“Wait, where you going?” Finn pulled her back to her seat.

“To the motel.”

“You can’t drive.”

“I’ll walk.”

 “Let me walk you then.”

Since Clarke was nowhere near sober, she agreed. _You have got to stop._ She wanted to yell at herself. When her bill was paid and her backpack secured, Finn escorted her outside. They strolled down the road in a non-awkward silence. On instinct, she pulled away when his hand touched the small of her back. When she was in a much worse condition last night, Bellamy took care of her, without a touch or expecting anything in return. This guy wanted something.

“I think I’ll be fine from here, thank you.” She hastened her step.

His large hand grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back. “Why you in such a hurry?”

“I’m tired, I wanna go to bed.”

Finn flashed his perfect teeth at her. “I bet that boyfriend of yours didn’t know how to show you a good time in bed.” He pulled her closer to him and whispered against her ear, “You’ve been such a tease the whole night, pleading with me to take care of you.” Despite her best efforts to get away, he was stronger. She tried to kick him where it mattered, but he blocked it and laughed her off. “A feisty one, I like them feisty.”

The fogginess in her head was not helping. As she struggled to loosen his grip, she lost her balance, which gave him the opportunity to push her against the wall. His grip on her was too robust to crack. Even the step on his toe didn’t faze him. One of his hands muffled her screams while the other cradled her breasts below her shirt. The rest of his body held her in place.

He unbuttoned her jeans, causing tears to sting her eyes. Unwilling to give up, she kept wriggling her way out of the situation until he smashed her head against the wall. A sharp ring sounded in her ears and her vision slowly blurred into darkness.

***********************************

The girl was gone before Bellamy could fully realize what had happened. She fled, slamming yet another door in his face. _Son of a bitch._ He may have had countless blows to the nose before, but nothing quite prepared him for it. Once he regained composure, he chased after her. As he got outside, the truck was reversing. “Stop, Karen. Wait!”

He went on a frantic search for his keys. They were gone. He was sure he had left them on the kitchen counter, but they were nowhere to be found. _She must have taken them._ What better way to stop him from going after her? The girl seemed frightened to the core, probably the reason she drank so much. Her eyes were constantly searching, her jaw clenched and her muscles tensed.

He took out his phone and dialed his cop friend’s number. Miller answered on the fifth ring, “Blake, what’s up?”

“I need your help, man. But it has to be discreet.”

“Is it about the fighting?”

“No, but that’s still good, right?” Miller was the link that kept the cops out of their business.

“’Course, so what do you need?”

“There’s this girl.” He heard the annoyance in his friend’s grunt. “I think something bad may have happened to her. I tried to help but she ran away with my keys.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Miller’s tone was stern. “What if she was dangerous?”

“I’m dangerous too. She looked helpless. Will you help me or not?”

“I got her plates, just need your help finding her. Miller, you have to keep this on the down-low, I think she’s in trouble.”

With a deep sigh, he said, “You’re gonna get me fired. How long ago?”

“Fifteen minutes or so. She drives a rusty red Ford Pick-up. Virginia license plate, LLA – 417.”

“I’ll check it out, call you back if I have something.”

“Thanks, I owe you one.”

“Yeah, and I’ll cash in. Bye” Bellamy knew the statement to be true.

“Bye,” he hung up and started pacing. Attempting to get rid of the frustration, he pulled on his boxing gloves and went face to face with the punching bag. He needed to get that girl and fast, but there was nothing he could do.

There wouldn’t be much that Miller could do either. A license plate check would reveal the owner of the vehicle, which he was certain wasn’t her. By now, she would be well on her way out of the State. He was clueless as to what was going on and didn’t care either. All he needed was to bring her back and keep her safe.

Bellamy spent the better part of the morning contemplating how he could have handled the situation better. Fear and suspicion oozed from her and perhaps he came on to strong. If his persuasion skills came close to his fighting, she would be begging him to take care of her right now.

When the waiting became too much, he called Murphy, his friend/manager. “You ready for tonight?” Murphy answered with eager.

“I might have to forfeit.”

“What, Blake, you crazy? You know how much we got riding on this fight.”

That was the problem. The stakes were high, he hadn’t lost a fight in a while and a lot of people were counting on him to win. “You’ll have to make up some excuse then and I need your car.”

“For what?”

He did not need another lecture and Murphy’s would be even worse than Miller’s. “I lost my keys. I need to be somewhere.” Which was true, since he had no idea where to start looking.

“Where?”

“Just trust me okay?”

“And what should I tell the club, huh?” Murphy was entwined enough in the “corporation” to administer a cancellation.

“Be creative, tell ‘em there’s problems with the venue or the cops are on to us. I don’t care, just reschedule for tomorrow night!”

“Blake, what the fuck is going on?” Murphy demanded.

“I can’t tell you.” He pleaded rather than stated.

Murphy’s voice was slightly calmer when he said, “Fine, I’ll see what I can do. When do you need the car?”

“ASAP.”

“I’ll ask Emori to take it, you’ll just have to bring her back home. You owe me.”

“I know, thanks. I’ll give you half of my winnings tomorrow night.” It was a huge gesture; Bellamy needed the cash, but Murphy would have to climb Everest to get that fight postponed.

“You sound pretty sure you’re gonna win,” he mocked.

“I am, you know I am.”

“Sure do, later, Blake.”

“Later.” He ended the call.

Using his best spy skills, he tried to work out where she would go. If she came from Virginia as the plates suggested, she was headed south. Probably to the cousin she mentioned in Mississippi. But she would have to sleep somewhere. He scanned the map on his phone and tried to work out where she could be by now in any direction.

He made another call to Miller.

“I ran the plates.” Clear annoyance in his voice. “The truck belongs to an Edward Clay. But I’ve asked one of my girls on patrol to keep a lookout.”

“You did what?” he shouted.

“Relax, man. We can trust her, I told her it was a sensitive situation. Girl running away from an abusive boyfriend.”

“You sure?”

“Well, if you’re going through this much trouble to help her, I assumed it was an Octavia scenario.” Miller softened.

“So, anything?”

“Let me do my job, Blake, I’ll keep you posted. Bye”

“Bye.”

With another girl involved, matters were even more complicated. “Where are you?” He stared at the map like the answer would pop right out at him. A knock on the door brought him back from his reverie.

“Hey,” he hugged Emori. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Anytime, Blake. You know we’re family.”

For the first time since the girl had left, he smiled. “Just wish your boyfriend would see it that way. He gave me a much harder time.”

“Did you expect anything less?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Nope.”

Bellamy took Emori home and started for the highway south with no idea where to go. He just drove. The trees mocked him as he went past, the cars giggled and the heaving trucks gossiped. _Please, just give me a sign._

At once, a notion pounced. “Karen” had alcoholic tendencies. She came into the bar every day between three and four, then drank until there was nothing of her left. If she followed this highway, and that same routine, there were only two or three towns she could be. Probably the one with the dodgiest motel, least likely to ask for ID. The variables were endless, nonetheless, he pulled over at the next gas station and evaluated his options.


	3. Fight or Flight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the positive feedback on the previous chapters. Since I've had a few requests, I've decided to update a little more frequently. Here we go!

  **Chapter 3**

It took hours of searching. The relief he felt when he walked into the dive bar and spotted her, was immeasurable. It looked like she was enjoying herself, so he left her, while he spied from a small table at the back, contemplating his approach.

“Hey,” a girl with only a patch of clothing approached. “You look rather lonely, want some company?”

He had always known he was attractive, girls (and guys) were forever looking and flirting, but today there was only one woman on his mind. “Nah, I’m good, thanks.”

“Are you sure? You seem tense, wanna tell me about it?” The blonde rendered her best sweet girl performance.

Since she was blocking his view of the subject, he moved her aside politely. “Sorry, I’m actually here for someone.” It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes and the girl was gone. He raced outside. When he found only her truck in the parking lot, he sprinted to the Motel that had initially led him to the pub. There was no sign of her or the guy. _Fuck. She must have left with him_.  

Defeated, he lumbered back with silent curses for fizzling another opportunity. A lax noise down an alley to his left set him on high alert. The rage inside burst out like the Hulk’s when he caught on to the image of the man pulling down his pants. Without caring about his strength, he launched a fist at pretty boy’s face. Bones cracked, teeth broke and blood splattered everywhere. The guy stumbled back and fell. Bellamy didn’t hesitate, he kicked him right in the crotch and then in the stomach. “You worthless piece of shit!”

Although every cell inside wanted to kill the man, he could not afford a manslaughter case. Instead, he turned to the mystery girl on the floor. Luckily all her clothes were still intact, he had arrived just in time, but the back of her head was bleeding. “Karen.” He lightly slapped her cheek, before tearing off a piece of his shirt to stop the blood. “Come on, I need you to wake up.”

Without sparing another glance at the guy behind him, he carried her down the road and slipped her limp body into the backseat. “Please wake up, sweetheart,” he begged. After fetching some water from the bar, he splashed it onto her face. “Please! Wake up! I can’t take you to a hospital.” Still no luck. Even though Bellamy thought it was a terrible idea, he jumped into the driver’s seat and took her home.

It was a three-hour drive back to Arkadia and her head was still bleeding. He needed a proper bandage. _Damn it, I should have brought Emori with me._ If she was with him, she could have driven while he took care of “Karen”.

Halfway back, something stirred in the rearview mirror. She sat up with a hand on her head.

“You’re okay,” he whispered.

“Bellamy,” she blinked. “How did you find me?”

“Crazy ass detective skills.” He smiled at her, overcome with solace. “You’re okay now. I’ll take care of you. Please, just don’t run away again,” he implored.

“My head hurts. What happened?”

“That asshole you were talking to almost raped you.” Bellamy closed his eyes, trying to rid himself of the memory. “I got there just in time.”

“Thank you,” she sighed. “I should have trusted you.”

“I understand.”

Without another word, she went back to sleep. When they arrived at his apartment, he carried her to the bed and cleaned her up. She smelled terribly of alcohol, another problem that required resolution. At that, he emptied all the beer bottles in the fridge and drowned the last of the bourbon and wine.

***********************************

Clarke woke to aspirin and orange juice. For a moment she felt misplaced until the events of the night crept back like sluggish creatures. Running away. Finn. Bellamy. She was in his bed. The hangover was even worse than the one before - her head hammered. But that was probably because of the hit as well as the inebriation.

When she pulled the blanket down, she was only dressed in a t-shirt. Somehow she was more thankful for the act of undressing than angry. A sizzling smell of bacon caused her stomach to rumble and lured her into the kitchen.

“Morning,” Bellamy chirped.

“Hey, about last night-“

“Forget it ever happened. You’re safe now, no-one can touch you here, I’ll make sure of that.” He smirked.

Clarke feigned a wavering smile. “Thank you, for everything. I’ve decided to take a leap of faith with you.”

“Good. How you feelin’?” He scraped the bacon from the pan into plates that already held French toast.

“Not good. Thanks for the aspirin though.”

Handing her a plate he said, “We need some ground rules. Rule number one, no more thank you’s.”

She nodded, taking the food from him. “No more thank you’s. Where do you eat?”

“On the couch.”

Both of them sat down, digging into the delicious breakfast he had prepared.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked.

“I’ll show you the ropes at the bar today, you can start tomorrow. You have to stop drinking though, so it’ll be a challenge.”

Despite all the terrible things she had experienced over the last couple of weeks, she felt warm and fuzzy inside. “Maybe it won’t be so hard.” The only reason she drank too much, was to escape. In some way, the stranger next to her was a downpour of hope.

“I hope so, but when you feel like it is, you should tell me. For this to work, you have to confide in me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I had to postpone my fight till tonight. So, you’ll come with me. Emori will take care of you, don’t worry.”

“Who’s Emori?” Clarke frowned.

“My best friend’s girlfriend.”

Clarke hesitated, but her decision to trust him prompted her incline. “Okay.”

When they got to the bar, he did not let up on her, explaining where everything was and how things worked in rapid fashion. Luckily, she was a fast learner. Once he had shown her the basics, it was time to master the shot and cocktail menus.

The way he taught was mesmerizing. He juggled and tumbled the bottles around with delicate ease. They were the puppets; he was the master. Not one drop was spilled when he pushed a perfect Long Island Ice Tea towards her.

“Don’t drink that,” he warned.

“Relax,” she giggled. “I won’t.”

“Now it’s your turn.” He walked out from behind the counter and gestured for her to take the spotlight.

“Well, um, I’ve never worked in a bar before, but I’ll try.”

“What did you do?”

She gave him a stern look. “Rule number 2 – no questions about me. Except… Clarke, my name is Clarke.”

“Okay, Clarke, let’s see what you got?”

Her version was not nearly as graceful, fast, or spotless as his was. She bit her bottom lip as he took a sip. His eyes went wide when he swallowed. “Uh, maybe let up on the rum.”

Instead of the laugh she was expecting, tears escaped her.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’ll get it. It just takes time.” Clarke noticed his discomfort.

“I’m sorry. It’s not that.” She waved one hand whilst drying her eyes with the other. “It’s this. I feel like I can finally breathe and be normal again and I’m scared it won’t last long enough for me to enjoy.”

He was next to her within seconds. “I said I’ll take care of you. I promise, forever.”

With hesitant hands, he tried to hug her. She leaned in, allowing herself the sense of reassurance. “You don’t even know me?”

“I don’t care, I know the signs. I saw them in my sister and I ignored them because she kept telling me she was fine. You are my chance to make up for it. Say you believe me.” He prodded the answer out of her eyes with a deep stare.

“I believe you.” And it was the truth, his tenderness, his rescue, all of it symbolized security.

“Good, now I have to work. You can wait tables. Grab an apron, let’s open the doors.”

Her first day did not go without a hitch. Some orders got mixed up, drinks were spilled and her feet burned after the lunch hour rush. But she enjoyed it; she had a purpose other than staying hidden. That came with its own problems; every customer that looked at her for a moment too long became a threat.

“Bellamy,” she said when they had a breather. “I’m scared someone recognizes me. I keep thinking one of them is after me.”

“Okay, we’ll have to change your look then.”

“I’ve already done that. I changed my hair color and I wear glasses now.”

“What about temporary make-up? Emori’s a tattoo artist she can sort you out. And colored contacts?”

His eagerness to help brought a bright smile to her face. “I would’ve said thanks, but…”

“No problem. We’ll make it happen tonight after the fight.”

“So, about this fight-“

He cut her off. “It’s illegal, yeah.”

“I was gonna ask if you’re any good.”

“Oh, I’m the best.” He bragged pulling at the shoulders of his pinstripe shirt.

Clarke scoffed. “Wow, you do not have a self-esteem problem.”

“Well, tonight you’ll see for yourself.”

“So, who’s bartending?” Actually, she was wondering if he owned the place since he did whatever he wanted.

“Atom, he’ll probably be in just now.”

“Do you own it?”

With a chuckle, he said, “I wish. No, the owner is never around, he owns quite a bit of property. I just manage it.”

When Atom arrived, he took over and relieved Bellamy of his duties. First, they went back to his apartment. He threw some punches at the bag, showered and changed into sweats and a t-shirt. For the first time in a while, Clarke made an effort with her appearance. While she only wore skinny jeans and a tank top, she applied a little make-up and did her hair.

The ache for a drink built up as the “unfamiliar” face greeted her in the mirror. Unsolicited memories sneaked into her mind. She bit down hard. _Focus,_ she coaxed. _Bellamy’s counting on you._

“Clarke!” he called from the sitting room. “You ready?”

“Coming!”

It only took one look for him to notice her faltering composure. “You need a drink?” he asked with a slight pout, his face full of sympathy.

“How do you know?”

“Same way I knew how to find you. You came into the bar at the same time every day. What can I do?”

Although she still didn’t like his pity, it seemed like he couldn’t help his big-hearted nature. “You can’t fix everything, you know. I have to do this on my own. Maybe just keep me occupied.”

His nod was unconvinced. “Should I introduce you as my girlfriend or my cousin?”

“You choose, just don’t tell anyone my name.”

“So, you sticking to Karen?”

“Do you trust your friends?”

“With my life.”

His faith in them was good enough for her. “Fine, tell them my real name, but to anyone else, I’m whatever name you like.”

The ends of his mouth curved up. “You’re staying.”

“What?”

“You said to tell my friends your real name, does that mean you’re sticking around?” It was clear he needed the guarantee.

“I am, but…” She wanted to say it increased the risk of being found; that bit of info would spur unnecessary curiosity.

“Of course there’s a but.” He looked away, obviously not pleased with the response.

“Never mind.”

He opened his mouth and then probably thought better of it.

It felt like they drove forever to what Bellamy called the venue. Clarke was expecting a run-down warehouse or something from the Fight Club movie, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. They stopped at the front gates of a mansion where he keyed in a pin and it opened. There were hundreds of cars parked in the allocated lot, next to spring green, well-kept gardens.

Her surroundings awed Clarke. “Why is this illegal?”

“It’s unsanctioned and there’s betting involved. Come on, people will look at you, you might wanna hide.”

Her breath hitched and her knees buckled. “What? Why?”

He placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. “Because you’re the undefeated champion’s pretend girlfriend.”

“Bellamy, I can’t. I can’t have attention on me.”

His posture sagged. “I understand, but it’s better to be near me than alone at home.”

Home, he used the term like they were a married couple. It became too much for her. “I need a drink.” Her hands shivered, and she felt a sudden sweat breakout. “Now!”

“Give me your hand.” He took it. “You’re okay. Breathe, slowly. In. Out.” His chest heaved along with the words and she followed suit. “There you go, calm down. In. Out. I made you a promise to keep you safe and I intend to keep that promise.”

“No, I can’t.” She felt the start of hyperventilation. “Get me out of here. I need alcohol.”

“I can’t take you home. I have to fight. Calm down, breathe.” He smoothed his hands along her arms.

Bellamy’s words weren’t soothing; it impelled even more fear. _I can’t take you home._ “He’s here, isn’t he? This was all just a ploy. You’re delivering me to him. You jackass,” she seethed through gritted teeth and slapped him across the face.

Her scene attracted unwanted spectators. Bellamy ignored them and weaved through the crowd. Keeping her close to him. She didn’t want to follow, but the gathering was even more terrifying. Two people she assumed were his friends trailed behind.

“Clarke,” he lifted her chin to face him once they were inside a locker room. “I’m not delivering you to anyone. I have to get ready now. This is Emori,” he pointed to a woman with shoulder length dark hair and a face tattoo. “The girl I told you about. She’ll look after you. No-one will take you or harm you. Are you okay?”

She was nowhere near okay; she felt defeated, yet nodded in response. _He_ may be somewhere in that crowd, waiting for her. Or Bellamy was being honest. The paranoia was uncontrollable.

***********************************

Footsteps approached while Bellamy warmed up. When he turned around, Miller stood in front of him, arms crossed, nostrils flared.

“Where were you last night?” Miller demanded.

Bellamy frowned. “What’s it to you?”

“That truck you mentioned was abandoned outside a bar in Wrightsville. A few blocks from where a guy was found beaten half to death.”

_Shit, not this too._ “I was at home, drinking beer, watching TV.”

“And the girl on your arm, who’s she?”

Bellamy tried to remain casual, but his heart rate skyrocketed. “Miller, why are you questioning me like I’m a criminal?”

His friend relaxed slightly. “Because if I can put two and two together, then they will too.”

With a deep sigh, he said, “He was trying to rape her. What was I supposed to do?”

“Not break his face for one.” His eyes were deep with concern.

Perhaps his actions had made matters worse. “You have to keep quiet. What about the girl you told?”

“Harper won’t say anything. For now, they have nothing, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“They won’t find us. Even if they question the owner of the truck, nothing will lead them here?” Although he didn’t quite believe it himself.

Miller scoffed. “You sure about that? What if they find your DNA on him? Or spot you on a camera?”

The thought never crossed his mind. “What are the chances?”

“Slim, but there is a chance. Blake, what makes this girl so special?”

_A lot,_ he thought running a hand through his hair. “I’m just trying to help her. She’s scared, and she has no-one else.”

His friend’s pointed eyes conveyed his skepticism. “I’ll try to deter them, but there’s not much I can do from here. Be careful, Blake. Watch your back. And uh, good luck with the fight.” He gave him an encouraging nudge.

“Thanks.” He knew it was a lot to ask, but since high school, they were all the type of friends that would walk barefoot through hell for each other.

Bellamy sat with his head cradled in his hands. At least the fight would be a welcome frustration relief. He now had an alcoholic girl who was reluctant to trust him, a rapist with a valid assault charge and possible evidence that could be traced.


	4. What are you fighting for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the new chapter. Hope you enjoy! As usual, thank you so much for the comments and kudos. Seeing that people love your work, is both humbling and encouraging.

**Chapter 4**

“Are you okay?” Emori asked.

“I’m fine,” Clarke lied.

The brunette sat down next to her. “Blake, he’s one of the best people I know. Now, I’m not sure what your argument earlier was about, but he canceled his fight last night, borrowed my car to get you. I don’t know what you are to him, but when he cares about you, you’re doomed.”

This morning Clarke would’ve agreed with her, now she wasn’t so sure anymore. He could have saved her because he needed her to get his hands on the money. “You sure about that?”

“Hundred and ten percent,” she deadpanned. “Come on, let’s go watch the fight.”

Not wanting to alert Emori to her hidden identity, she agreed and followed the girl out of the room. The door opened into a gym with a boxing ring in the middle, surrounded by packed seats. Clarke was fascinated by the sophistication of the “underground” fighting league.

Emori pushed through the mass, but Clarke stayed behind in a dark corner. She considered escaping, but there was no way out. The first participant stepped into the ring, the Eagle, a guy much bigger than Bellamy, probably a bodybuilder pumped with steroids. Bellamy was well built and toned; not buff. It looked like the guy could crush him. Whether that was what Clarke wanted, she wasn’t sure.

A few hours ago she told him her real name and somehow all that confidence was crushed when he said she would be in the limelight. Bellamy caught her eye when he jumped through the railing, glowing with arrogance.  The crowd roared - they loved him. Clarke crawled further back into her shell. She observed from afar. The referee declared the start of the battle, while the opponent creaked his neck. Bellamy jumped, shaking his limbs.

The two opponents bumped their fists in which Clarke assumed was an acknowledgment. At first, they circled each other like native tribes dancing around soaring flames. Eagle attacked, but Bellamy was in sharp focus. He blocked until the man was exposed, then flung a fist at him. Eagle tried to dodge, but it scraped his cheek.

The rage built with each movement. Thumps. Pants. Blood. Cries. When Eagle landed an exceptional shot at Bellamy’s stomach, he dropped to his knees. Clarke’s heart leaped into her throat. The referee counted, it was over. Bellamy surprised, pulling the guy’s legs out with a WWE move, and knocked him down with a single thud.

“One, two, three…” The count started again.

Eagle didn’t get up; he was defeated. Loud cries came from the pleased spectators. “Blake, Blake, Blake…” resounded through the room. He put on quite a show, accepting his conquest with eager. Even though Clarke didn’t know him, she knew the character on that stage wasn’t him. She was still staring when Emori grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back through the door.

Both of them were silent in waiting. Bellamy made an entrance, covered in blood. On instinct, she rushed to his side, inspecting his wounds.

“I’m fine,” he wheezed.

His scrawny, sandy-haired friend extended a hand towards her. “Murphy,” he introduced himself.

Bellamy gave her a silent nod.

“Clarke,” she greeted.

Without worrying about himself, Bellamy pulled her into a quiet corner at the back of the room. “I was worried about you. You all right now?”

She still could not make up her mind: _Believe him? Don’t believe him?_ “I don’t know,” was the only reasonable response she could muster. “Can I take care of that for you?” She touched the bruises on his lip and eye. Her estranged mother was a doctor; she had learned a lot from her when she still lived at home.

“Sure,” he encouraged with a soft smile. “Murphy’s got a first aid kit.”

Clarke dabbed the cotton with antiseptic and slowly wiped it along the damage. Bellamy cringed slightly at the sting. “Does it hurt?”

“Nah, I’m used to it.”

“Go shower before I cover it.”

“Yes, Mom,” he joked.

Waiting for him to return, Emori and Murphy joined her on the bench.

“So, you and Blake, huh?” Murphy prompted.

Without having an answer to the question, she said, “I guess.”

Murphy’s stare made her uncomfortable. She supposed it was the best friend right; still, she did not appreciate being the object of his scrutiny.

“I guess?” he echoed. “Blake is about the best guy I know. You’re 100% in or leave him be.”

The guy did not mess around. His cynicism was not unwarranted either; Bellamy did give up a fight to rescue her, and she slapped him across the face. Emori gave her boyfriend a cautionary look, which he brushed off. It was now or never, Murphy was expecting an answer. They weren’t an actual couple, but the question still required a commitment. “I’m in,” she said, scorching all the doubt infested within her.

“You heard that, Blake?” Murphy asked as Bellamy joined them. “Your girl’s in.”

Bellamy cocked an eyebrow. “In what?”

“With you. Maybe later tonight, you’ll be in with her too,” he winked.

Even though it was a joke, the thought wasn’t unappealing to Clarke. She hadn’t been intimate with anyone in a while and there was no denying that Bellamy was devilishly handsome. But that would cross a boundary in their relationship she was unwilling to do.

“Don’t put her on the spot like that, Murphy,” Bellamy warned without being harsh. He then turned to look at her. “You ready to go?”

“Uh-huh.” She wanted out of that place as soon as possible.

Bellamy collected his money before steering her towards the car. She couldn’t help but notice the number of hundred dollar bills. And he had fans. Men and women alike wanted to talk to him. The scantily clad girls gave her evil looks, affecting a rise to her anxiety levels. He smiled and responded to everyone without letting go of her.

“Wow,” she said as soon as they found the safety of the car. “I’m sorry for freaking out.”

“Rule number three – no I’m sorry’s unless you did something serious. Like dinged my car.”

Clarke’s face was a splatter of surprise and amusement. “I get to drive your car?”

“It was hypothetical.” He gave her a small smirking glance. “But if you have to, yeah. I’m not planning on letting you go anywhere without me though.”

The warmth that had earlier left her, gradually revolved.  “I like you, Bellamy Blake.”

“You shouldn’t.” His tone was serious. “I’m not as nice as you think. My reasons for doing all of this are selfish.”

“Trying to make up for the mistakes you made with your sister is hardly selfish,” she insisted.

“Uh-huh. I’m starving, you feel like pizza?”

“Sure, but can we please go to your place and order?” It was a long day and she needed to relax. Bellamy seemed tense as well. His hands clung to the steering wheel; his jaw tight. “Are you mad at me?”

“What? No, I expected that to happen sometime. You’ve been through a traumatic experience and you’re scared of something.”

“What’s wrong then?”

“Nothing.” The smile he gave her was fake. “Just tired.”

***********************************

“You never asked Emori about the permanent make-up.” Clarke broke the awkward silence while they ate.

“Sorry, I was spent. I wanted to get home. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

Clarke nodded. “Your eye is swollen.”

With his left hand, he tapped at the sensitive spot. “I’ll wear sunglasses.” He knew she wanted to know what was bothering him, but he couldn’t tell her. With her being a flight risk, anything unsettling should remain unsaid.

“How often do you fight?” Clarke stood and took his plate from him.

“Once a week or so. The venues aren’t always that fancy. It’s mostly at warehouses or workshops. Tonight was one of the rich members, generous enough to host.”

Wordlessly she turned to the kitchen and started the dishes. Seemingly much calmer. These episodes would probably happen often; he would have to find a way to deal with them. Playing guitar was his usual ritual after a fight, so he fetched it from the closet and jiggled a few notes.

“Why do you fight?” She flopped down in the chair once she was done.

“I need the money. I don’t make a lot with bartending.”

It was clear she already knew the answer. “Can you teach me?”

“To play guitar or fight?”

“Fight. The other night I wasn’t strong enough to get away. I wanna learn.”

All girls should be able to defend themselves. Unfortunately for Octavia, her combat skills cost her a bullet through the chest. “Sure, yeah. We can start tomorrow morning.”

“Good. I’m going to bed.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.” She headed for the bedroom.

He continued playing softly. It wasn’t long before she joined him again. “Can’t sleep?”

“No, I have nightmares when I’m not drunk. You play well.”

“Ah, I just mess around, it’s comforting.” He strummed the notes, composing a random tune.

To his complete surprise, she sang as his fingers flared the strings. “There comes a time in anyone’s life, you have to grow up and move on.”

“What was that?” he blinked.

“I was just messing around.”

“No, it’s good. Go on.”

She pumped out lyrics like she was a born songwriter. He played. She sang. They had such a laugh staying in rhythm and beat until they had almost produced a complete song.

_There comes a time in anyone’s life_

_You have to grow up and move on_

_There comes a time when the fun is over_

_Wake up before your chance is gone_

_The sun slowly sets on playtime_

_Kisses in the rain can never last_

_The riddle will solve in the future_

_Stop looking to the past_

_Take a look at that mood-board, baby_

_There’s a dream inside_

_Get up and get that engine revvin’_

_You will see the light_

_Believe me when I tell you_

_Things will click right into place_

_Like the fresh smell of coffee_

_When the night has been erased_

It was the most fun Bellamy had had in a long time. Miller’s warning long forgotten. But like Clarke’s song explained: _The_ _Sun slowly sets on playtime_. “We have to go to bed if we wanna catch an early start to train.”

Clarke worried on her lip. “I don’t know how. Lately, I get so drunk I just pass out.”

“You want me to sleep with you?” Bellamy wasn’t keen on the idea, but he suggested it anyway. Her eyes widened with shock, probably because of his word choice. “I mean you want me to lie with you until you fall asleep?”

“Would you mind? Like innocently.” Good. She didn’t get the wrong idea. He let down his guard with her, to gain her trust, but there was nothing more to it.

“Yeah, I know. I can do that.”

They lay down next to each other without touching. He wasn’t sure whether she was expecting him to hold her; she said nothing, so he left it. Clarke turned to face away from him. Whatever was going on with her was a mystery, yet unimportant. He focused his ears on her breathing; it was jagged. For another hour he stared into the darkness, all his earlier worries tormenting. The silence was eerie. The girl next to him still awake. His eyelids betrayed him, they became heavy and shut.

A shrilling scream woke Bellamy in the early hours of the morning. He was still half asleep when he leaned over to console her. “Hey, it was just a dream. You’re okay.” In his arms, he felt her muscles unwind. So he held her until her breaths slowed before he traded the bed for the couch.

 

***********************************

Clarke’s eyes fluttered open when mellow noises came from the bathroom next door. Although she still needed a few hours of sleep, she rose to her feet. It was the first morning she had no aftereffects of drinking. There was still a long road ahead, but she allowed herself a hypothetical pat on the back. And Bellamy needed a hi-five or a hug for his role in it.

Strolling to the kitchen, she smelled a pot of brewing coffee. It reminded her of the song they had made. The thought tugged her lips into a beam as she poured herself a cup. Perhaps this life could take a path down a contented road. Maybe Bellamy would protect her as he had promised. And maybe they could fall in love, get married and have kids together.

The figment of her racing imagination chose that moment to walk in. “You look happy. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you for you know…” Only when the words were out of her mouth did she realize she had broken rule number one. “Oops.” She scrunched up her nose.

He laughed it off. “I’m happy to do it until you’ve adapted. You just…” He ran a hand across his forehead where his swollen eye was evident. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. This is purely a roommate arrangement. Being a fake-couple is just to avoid unwanted questions.”

It was only a few clouds in her coffee. An impossible happy-ending to her turmoil of a life. “Of course.”

After getting dressed, they headed to the gym for her first lesson. Bellamy looked like a fourth grader in a game arcade.

“How do we start?” she asked.

“We can work on a few defense strategies, but it would be best to get your strength up first.” He led her towards an open space with training mats. “Before you learn to punch, I’ll teach you how to block. If someone attacks, put your arm up like this.” He placed his right arm against his chest. “And then you go straight for the eye.” His left arm hurled forward, two fingers sticking out.

Bellamy demonstrated again. “Okay, now pretend I’m the attacker.” He came at her. She easily imitated his actions and poked at the delicate flesh around his eye. “Good, that was good. Next move. Now attack me.” As Clarke ran towards him, Bellamy lifted both arms to his head and swerved his left elbow into her chest. When the roles reversed, she did exactly as instructed and landed a perfect hit.

After a few self-defense moves, they advanced to the heavy bag. “What’s your dominant hand?” he asked.

“Left.”

“Okay,” he positioned himself. “You’ll start right then, put your right foot in front, straight. Left foot slightly turned outwards and bend your knees. I keep my hands low, so it doesn’t block my vision.” First, he punched with his right hand. “Look at my feet, you gotta step into it a little and make it a quick jab. Right, right, left. Right, right, left.”

It took a few tries; the posture and rhythm were more challenging than anticipated. Her best efforts did not match his demo. Yet. But his praise was highly encouraging. “Yes, you’re getting the hang of it. Keep going.”

Clarke’s face looked like Rudolph’s nose coated in sweat when she hit the shower. The endorphins of the workout triggered her high spirits. She wanted to seize the day. Bellamy gave her a reboot and she would make the most of it.

The second day at the bar went a little smoother than the first. Bellamy allowed her to prepare some drinks, which she didn’t botch – completely. Even when he smiled, he wasn’t himself. Although she knew something was bothering him, she didn’t push. Sticking to a colleague/roommate relationship.

His crankiness did not trample her own good mood. No, she felt like she had woken from a long deep sleep. Until the other waitress, Bree caught her alone behind the bar. “So, you think you own the place because you’re sleeping with Bellamy?”

“Excuse me,” she almost fell off her seat. The blonde had been ignorant towards her since she had started, but Clarke assumed it was because the girl would have to share her tips.

“You heard me. You walk around here all high and mighty. It won’t last. Bellamy’s only ever loved one girl, he doesn’t date. When he gets bored, he’ll toss you aside.”

Clarke wondered whether the girl was talking from personal experience. She had no words. Murphy and Emori admired him, this girl’s opinion was the complete opposite. “Why do you say that?”

“Because he still loves her,” Bree explained removing her apron. “You’ll see.”

“Bree,” Bellamy startled them from behind. “Please keep your nose out of my business.”

Before Bree could respond, a little girl with long dark hair and big blue eyes ran inside, jumping into Bellamy’s arms. “Daddy!”

Clarke’s eyes went wide, her mouth agape, the surprise cemented her feet to the ground.

“Hey Munchkin,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Mommy got off work early. She said we can surprise you.”

A tall, well-built woman with the same hair and eyes entered.

“Echo.” Bellamy nodded in her direction.

“Hello, Bellamy.” Echo fixed her gaze on Clarke.

Bree pushed past Clarke on her way out. A _see what I mean_ expression on her face. That look made her realize she knew almost nothing about Bellamy. He had a kid and an ex-girlfriend he was apparently still hung up on. And likely a million other secrets in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you now utterly confused? Good. I'd love to hear your theories.


	5. Losing a battle with love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a whirlwind. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 5**

Bellamy observed as Clarke turned to leave. On impulse, he wanted to grab her and explain; however, he had a family that came first. “You want a milkshake, sweetheart?” he asked his daughter.

“Please, Daddy?”

He pecked her cheek before disappearing into the kitchen. Echo followed him, leaving Madi with Atom.

“What are you doing, Bellamy?” she demanded, her hands fisted into her hips.

“I’m good, thanks. How are you?” Bellamy twitted.

His ex clicked her tongue. “Don’t play games with me.”

“Echo,” he sighed, pulling the ice cream out of the fridge. “I’m allowed to date and I don’t have the energy to fight with you.”

With a narrow-eyed stare, she said, “Madi missed you.”

“I miss her too. I’ll pick her up on Sunday. I have the day off.”

“Good. With her?”

“Yes, with her. You got a problem with that?”

Echo’s clenched jaw suggested she had a mouthful that required an outlet. Because of his warning glare, she simply said, “I don’t like it.”

“Guess what, I don’t care. You do not get to tell me what I can and can’t do. I love Madi more than anything. I will never let any harm come to her.”

Without a word, she stormed out of the kitchen. The woman always got on his wrong side. Using their daughter to make demands, she had no right to make. He brought Madi’s milkshake to her. “First, give Daddy a kiss.”

Eagerly, she pushed her lips to his. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Pleasure, Munchkin.” He pinched her nose while she took the straw into her mouth. Clarke approached the bar and handed him an order. “Madi.” He took Clarke’s hand into both of his. “This is Daddy’s new friend.” The four-year-old studied his fake partner with wrinkled brows. It was the first time he had introduced her to a girl. She was used to seizing his full attention. Both of them were silent in anticipation – he needed Madi to like her.

“She’s pretty,” Madi said.

“Why thank you, Madi. So are you.” Clarke responded with a bright smile.

From the corner of Bellamy’s eye, he noticed Echo and Atom’s jaws dropping. If he said he wasn’t stunned himself, it would be a lie. Watching the interaction between the two girls tugged at his heartstrings.

“Babe,” he cleared his throat. Using the nickname to conceal her real one. “The order?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Her pale cheeks turned rosy. “Two beers.”

“Comin’ up.” He turned to get the drinks while Clarke veered to the kitchen. His gaze followed her, hoping for a chance to explain. With each step, he feared she would take off again.

“Daddy has a girlfriend,” Madi teased, sticking out her tongue.

“I do and I bet you’ll love her.”

“You still love me, right?” she pouted.

“Of course, sweetheart. You will always be my number one girl.”

“Madz,” Echo chimed in. “Are you done, sweetie? We have to go soon. Daddy has to work.”

“Aaaah, I wanna stay with Daddy.”

His heart broke. Even if he wanted to see her as often as possible, it was difficult with his job. “I will fetch you on Sunday, then we’ll have some fun and I can take you to school on Monday.”

“Okay.” Her big lip suggested she was far from pleased, yet she had learned to accept it. “What day is today?”

“Monday. Only 6 more sleeps. Now give me a big hug.” She climbed onto the counter and threw her arms around him. Bellamy held her tight, hating the fact he only got to see her every other day. “Bye, Munchkin.”

“Bye, Daddy. Love you.”

“Love you too. Now, be good for Mommy.”

With a regretful sigh, he watched them walk away. Clarke did not touch the subject again. She carried on her duties like nothing had changed. Around five, the place gained volume. With awe, he watched the woman on her second sober day of a new job and “freedom” conquer the place. What he thought would be a long and difficult task, turned out to be a breeze. Sure, there would be some hard days, but with her positive attitude, they’d glide through.

He’s blissful face grew grim when he caught sight of her picture on the TV. Without being too obvious, he grabbed the remote and switched it to sports before anyone saw. But his curiosity got the best of him, so he pulled out his phone for further investigation.

A news report showed a photo of her and then one of the alley where that guy had tried to rape her. The news anchor said, “The blood that was found at the crime scene was confirmed to be a match to Miss Clarke Griffin that has been missing for the last three weeks. The victim, Mr. Finn Collins, found at the scene, claimed they were attacked and Miss Griffin abducted. It is still unclear whether Miss Griffin was driving the truck that was left at the bar where she was last seen with Mr. Collins. Police departments have no leads on the attacker as yet and are asking the public to offer any information they might have.”

_Fuck._ Bellamy pulled at his hair. He had to keep this from Clarke. At least they had nothing on him yet. If they did, the only option would be to run away with her. But Madi… She kept him rooted in Arkadia. Miller would have to buy him a little time to fix everything. At that, an even better plan nestled in his mind. _Yes, just a little time._

Their days continued with routine. They avoided the issue and made small talk. Both adapting easily to living with the other. Her cravings for alcohol died down. Miller kept him up to date with the investigation, which he, with difficulty, hid from Clarke.

Emori transformed her look to short pink hair, brown contacts and a tiny tiara tattoo on her right cheek. His friend also deepened her skin tone with spray-tan. Clarke now had fake eyelashes, brows, and full red lips. She used to be beautiful, and she still was, yet he longed to see the real girl behind the façade. The blonde with the big blue eyes from the picture.

Every morning they would train. Clarke was a natural. Brave. Of course, she still feared the inevitable, and he had to lie with her until she reached dreamland each night. Some nights they chatted until both of them fell asleep. With her frequent nightmares, he had given up on the couch. Ensuring there were still barriers between them, they barely touched. Ever. His fondness for her grew each day, especially for her cooking. They usually just ate at the bar, but she had taken it upon herself to prepare breakfast. And her eggs benedict tasted like angels had delivered it.

On Saturday night, he had a view of Clarke sweeping the floors in tune to some old song playing in the background. Her hips swayed and her lips moved. It was 2 am and just the two of them left. He snickered, wiping down the counters.

“You laughing at me?” she called over her shoulder.

“Only ‘cause you’re cute.”

“Oh, you think I’m cute, huh? What would Echo say about that?”

“Clarke,” he started, it was time to broach the unspoken subject. “I was gonna tell you. I was just waiting for you to settle in first. I wasn’t expecting them to just drop by like that.”

“It’s fine,” she waved him off. “You have a past too. You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to. I want you to know everything. Madi’s not really mine.” That little fact should reveal his sincerity.

Clarke’s head shot up from the floor. “What?”

“Yeah, that’s why I left Echo. I worked it out and there’s no way she’s mine. Echo cheated. But Madi can _never_ find out.” It was hard to admit to anyone, but he had to get it out.

She moved closer to him. Her face unreadable. “You still love her?”

He let out a lax chuckle, knowing exactly where Clarke got the impression. “Don’t listen to Bree. I haven’t even liked Echo for a long time. I tried to make it work for Madi’s sake, but I couldn’t get past what she had done.”

Tilting her head to the side, she asked, “Does she know that you know?”

“She suspects, but I gave her some bullshit reason for breaking up with her. She still thinks we’re getting back together. Bree and Echo, their friends, she was trying to scare you off.” He pulled a crate out from under the counter to gather empty glasses.

“I’m sorry about that.” The music changed to some soppy love song he vaguely recognized. “Enough with the heavy, dance with me.”

Bellamy almost dropped the crate at the request. “I don’t dance.”

“Well, you do now.” Clarke took the empty crate and placed in on a nearby table. Pulling him closer until they were mere inches apart. She was not expecting him to twirl and tilt her. “Thought you don’t dance?”

“I said I don’t, not I can’t.” They rocked from side to side, barely moving with the slow rhythm of the song. Too close for his liking. He felt her heart beating; he felt more than that and pushed her out with one arm. With poise, she reeled back into their previous position. The music stopped; she did not let go and neither did he. He nearly drowned in her, until a little voice inside pulled him back. “Clarke, I can’t.” He turned to leave for the kitchen.

“So, you felt it too. You coward!” she called after him. He was a coward. Admitting what she did to him since her first night in this bar, would ruin everything.

***********************************

Clarke watched him walk away. Overnight, she had developed feelings for this perfect man who took care of her, expecting nothing in return. And now she had blown the great relationship they had developed. Not even the tough scraping of the tables and floors relieved her frustration.

The silence between them was shrilling after that. When they arrived at home, he made up the couch right away. Tears stung her eyes as she lumbered to the bedroom. Sleeping in that bed without him would be impossible. It was almost four in the morning and she couldn’t shut off her mind. Her floodgates opened and tears spilled out.

“Clarke,” he whispered from the doorway. “Are you okay?”

“Does this count as something I can say sorry for?”

He lay down next to her. “You did nothing wrong per se, but I think we might need some more boundaries.”

“Okay.” She would do anything to fix it. The tears were relentless though. They kept coming.

He pulled her into his arms and held her tight to his chest. With no words, she knew what he was thinking. _You’ll be okay. I’m here._ Emori was right; she was doomed. She never stood a chance at not falling for him when all he did was make her feel like the most special person in the world.

Reluctantly, she pulled away. “You’re right, we need some time apart.”

His eyes flicked from deep within her own to her lips. She blinked, averting her gaze, but he pulled her back to face him.

“No, _you_ were right. I am a coward.” His words weren’t cold when his lips found hers. Soft, barely a touch. The kisses grew deeper with time. It was perfect, the butterflies in your stomach, heart-somersaulting, kind of perfect.

After a long make-out session, she tugged at the hem of his shirt, which he discarded in seconds. His muscles were taught and beautiful underneath her touch. She felt those big hands fondle with her buttons. The struggle to remove her shirt and bra was worth it when he worshipped her breasts with both his hands and mouth. Her need to be with him jumped to her core, bringing about the desperation in their kissing.

The rest of the stripping act was frantic. “You sure about this?” he breathed.

“Positive. You?”

“Positive.”

He slipped on a condom and straddled her. His face hovered above hers. His knees on the outside of her thighs, causing a plummet in her heart rate. They stared for a moment before he occupied her mouth once more.

Without wasting another second, he pushed inside her. The invasion was slightly uncomfortable, yet welcome. Longed for. It took a few moments to find a pace, but when they did, the intimacy was mind-blowing. They moved together as one. Somehow, he knew exactly what she needed without having to ask. Sweat built and her moans grew louder as she neared her climax. Bellamy took that as his cue to increase the speed. With only a few more thrusts she was drunker than any of her intoxicated nights. Not long after, she felt his body spasm on top of hers as he found his own release.

He smiled. A sweet, innocent, boyish smile. “Wow!” And threw away the condom.

“Are you gonna regret it in the morning?” Why she had to ruin the moment with an idiotic question was beyond her.

“Do you trust me, Clarke?”

It caught her off guard. Was that perhaps the reason he fought his emotions? “Since Murphy said: ‘Blake’s about the best person I know.’ Yes, Bellamy, I trust you.”

“All of me. I need you to trust me enough to tell me everything.”

She stiffened. It all made sense. He didn’t know her and he needed to know her. “I’ll tell you, but right now, I need to sleep.”

“You will?” His frown proposed he wasn’t expecting that answer.

She traced slow circles on his bare chest. “I will. As soon as we get another chance alone. I promise.”

Without responding, his eyes flew shut, then she nuzzled into his side.  “Night, Bellamy.”

“Clarke,” he said, his eyes still closed. “I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

_Me too._ Unwilling to admit it, she repeated, “Night, Bellamy.”

“Clarke,” he was obviously pushing the sleep away. “Do you think you can love me?”

_Definitely._ “Go to sleep.”

“Clarke, I think I’m falling for you.”

Instead of responding she gave him another peck on the lips. “Bellamy, we have to pick Madi up in four hours. Go. To. Sleep.” 

***********************************

Dressed only in Bellamy’s shirt, Clarke prepared a pot of coffee when she felt his mouth on the back of her neck. “Morning, beautiful.”

She couldn’t contain the smile bursting out as she turned around. The fear and visions that had been trailing her disappeared. “Morning,” she said between hasty kisses.

“I think you need a shower, baby. You’re dirty.”

“Uh-huh, so are you.”

Coffee forgotten, they both rushed to the shower. She positioned herself against the wall and he pounded into her from behind. His hands raking all over her body. An electrifying sensation followed with each insertion. Since she was beyond lustful, her orgasm came quick. With the amount of sex she suspected they would be having, she needed birth control. Luckily, Murphy came through with her fake ID. Without a condom, he pulled out when he came. It took more than an instant for both of them to regain their composure after the out-of-body experience.

“We’re doing this every day,” he proclaimed squirting shampoo onto her hair.

“Definitely.” It was amazing. She felt even closer to him. “Unless Madi’s around.”

Bellamy’s fingers massaged into her scalp. “Do you have to be such a mood-killer?”

“Yes, which reminds me, I have to put clean sheets on the bed and do a load of washing.”

“You’ve barely been here a week and already you’re taking over.”

Clarke scrunched up her nose. “Just say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Nah, have at it. As long as I get to wash you like this every morning.” With an evil grin, he murmured against her ear. “After dirtying you each night.”

That tingling feeling of want returned. “Stop, we have to fetch your daughter.”

“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I can’t wait to see her.”

***********************************

When they arrived at Echo’s house, Clarke realized where all the hundred-dollar bills went. It looked like a catalog home with a white picket fence and all the trimmings. Unless Echo made a lot of money herself. “Do you pay for this place,” she snooped.

“Of course I do.”

She shook her head. Only Bellamy Blake would make sure his “child” got the best, while he lived in a birdhouse.

“Don’t worry. Soon I’ll get you the place you deserve too. Just trust me.” He kissed her cheek.

The way he said _just trust me_ made it seem like he was referring to something illegal. Clarke made a mental note to ask about it later. Bellamy knocked, rolling his eyes. It was clear he wasn’t looking forward to his ex. Madi opened the door, Echo right behind her. “Daddy!” She attacked him.

Echo’s gaze landed on her. Clarke wanted to introduce herself, but telling this jealous woman her name would be a bad idea. Everyone at the bar knew her as Karen and Echo probably did too.

Echo handed Bellamy a pink “Frozen” bag. “Everything’s in there.”

“Thanks. We’re taking her to the park. Say bye to Mommy.” He pulled his daughter off where she clung to him.

“Bye, Mommy. Love you.” Madi gave her mother a quick hug and kiss before running to the car. Clarke could almost not fathom how much this little girl loved her dad.

Once they were buckled in, she said, “Your hair is pink.”

Clarke turned towards her. “Do you like it?”

“Yes, pink is my favorite color. What’s your name?”

Clarke looked to Bellamy, unsure what to tell her. He took the lead. “Her real name is Karen, but I call her Clarke because she’s like Superman. And Superman’s real name is Clark Kent.”

Madi grimaced. “She’s not Superman, Dad. She’s a girl.”

“Yes, but she’s too special to be from this planet. Just like Superman.”

Clarke giggled at the interaction between the two. “Then she should be Supergirl, not Superman.”

“Fine, but I’m still calling her Clarke.”

“What should I call her?” she shrugged.

“Whatever you like.” Clarke winked at the four-year-old.

After feeding the ducks at the park, Madi played on the playground. Clarke watched her while Bellamy lay in her lap.

“I remember when Octavia was small, she used to love this place,” he said.

“Tell me about her.” Clarke nudged him.

“I don’t know the guy; they’re still looking for him.”

With a frown, she said, “You never met him?”

“No, after college, she got an internship in DC, so she left. I was so proud of her. She studied political science and was going places. At first, when she called, she was bubbling, she loved it. After a while, she told me she had met someone, and she was in love.”

Clarke noticed tears on the surface of his eyes when he pinned them with his digit and thumb. “Anyway, the calls became less. And when we did face-time, I noticed a change in her. Even though she had always been fearless, she looked scared. So I went to visit, but he was out of town.” He rolled his eyes, suggesting he didn’t believe his sister. “She acted like you, when you first came to the bar. Always looking over her shoulder, making excuses. When I asked about it, she lied and said it was work stress.”

He squeezed his eyes. “Believing her was the biggest mistake of my life because a few weeks after that, she vanished. The cops found her body in a bush off the highway. They believed my theory about the abusive boyfriend, but it turned out no-one knew who it was since they were having an affair.”

Clarke touched his cheek, wanting to rid him of the pain. “How do they know it was her boyfriend?”

“She sent him e-mails, telling him she wanted to end it. That she couldn’t continue with the affair. He responded with sweet, pleading words, saying he would rather kill her than let her go. The e-mail address couldn’t be traced. He covered his tracks thoroughly.”

The empathy she felt was overwhelming. “I’m so sorry,” she said, capturing his lips with hers.

“Ew! Grosse!” Madi yelled as she ran towards them.

Bellamy chuckled and swooped her up. “Do you want me to push you on the swing?”

“Yes!”

Clarke enjoyed them together. They shone brighter than two suns. Her heart may have flipped a few times thinking of having a family with him someday. When he told her he would fix everything, she believed him. Especially with that look on his face. That look he had given her a thousand times over the past week. It held a novel’s worth of words. _You’re amazing. I’m proud of you. We’ll be fine. I’m feeling things._

“You’re so good with her,” she told Bellamy when he joined her on the bench.

“So are you.”

Clarke clenched her jaw, hesitant to elaborate. _Just do it!_ “I used to be a teacher. I had my own art gallery. I gave private lessons, but one day a week I taught underprivileged kids.”

He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “Maybe someday you can have that again.”

_Maybe._ She felt things too. Way too many things. Way too early.

When they got home, Clarke suggested they play hide and seek. Madi cheated repeatedly without a word from either of them. It became more of a contest for Bellamy and Clarke to find the best hiding spot. Since it used to be a big house, converted into tiny apartments, the garden was safe and fair game.

“One,” Bellamy counted. “Two, three… “

Clarke managed an acrobatic squeeze into the lower shelve of the linen closet.

“Nine, Ten. Ready or not, here I come.” She heard his footsteps heading for the front door and grinned.

There was something under her butt. She pulled it out. It looked like the envelope containing all the facts about Octavia.  Opening the flap, she removed the contents. Her heart slowed to a stop. She tried to breathe, but her lungs constricted. Goosebumps crawled all over her skin.

Photos of her. And _him._ Every newspaper article about her disappearance. Internet stories. More photos of her. Images from her gallery’s website.  Articles about _him._

Bellamy Blake was a fraud. Everything she believed was a lie. _Asshole! Fucking Asshole._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tn Tn Tn... Bellamy Blake is a fraud. I'll try to post the next chapter ASAP, but it will probably only be by the weekend.


	6. The winner takes it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy.

  **Chapter 6**

Clarke had to play poker. Bellamy could not suspect she knew a thing. She crawled out of her hiding place and hid behind the bathroom door instead. Poor Madi was innocent in the whole ordeal and Clarke had to protect her.

“Found ya.” Bellamy ripped the door open. “Not a very creative hiding place, baby.”

She wanted to cringe at the nickname. To play the right cards, she laughed at herself. He saved her. Kept her safe. Gave her a job. Changed her identity. He had her fooled to the point where she slept with him. Twice. The thought made her sick to her stomach. And then she literally had to rush to the toilet to throw up.

Bellamy was next to her within seconds. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I think I might be coming down with a stomach bug.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Maybe I should just go lie down for a while.”

“Yes.” He lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing and placed her down on the bed. With a guise of true concern, he wiped the hair out of her face. “Should I go and get you something from the drugstore?”

Clarke clutched the opportunity. “Please, I feel terrible.”

“Okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “We’ll be right back.”

Madi poked her head in the door. “I’m sorry you’re sick, Clarke. I brought you something, I made it, and Mommy helped me.”

Clarke smiled at the little girl and held out her arm. “Thank you, Madi. It’s beautiful.” She inspected the toy bracelet with fondness.

“Come on, Munchkin. Let’s go get her some medicine so she can play with us again.”

Clarke did not understand how Bellamy could be a fraud unless he was a brilliant actor. Everything he did, all his kindness and caring felt real. And then it all made sense. The reason he fought so hard against them. His feelings for her weren’t fake, but he was. Either way, she needed to leave.

Once she was sure they had gone, she packed her bags. Hauled on a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap; grabbed some of Bellamy’s cash as payback and fled. Again. Without a car, it was more difficult than before. She would have to run to a bus station. At least her training sessions with Bellamy improved her fitness.

She sprinted, staying hidden behind trees and buildings. The sweat poured down her face. Even when her legs turned to pudding, she pushed herself forward. Panting and heaving, she bent down when she made it to the station. Keeping her face away from cameras, she purchased a ticket and boarded the bus. She held her breath to fend off the rotten food smell.

This was her original escape from _him_. She bought a ticket to New York, where her mom lived, got off two stops later and disappeared into thin air. Last time she trusted someone and believed she could live again. This time she would be more careful. She would not drink at all. _Yeah right, what else is there to do when you’re constantly running? Bellamy cares about you. He would never harm you._

If _he_ found out that Bellamy had fallen for her, he would die the most painful death imaginable. Even though she was furious, she wanted to protect him. A lump formed in her throat; why did he have to be the bad guy? From the shower this morning to the bed tonight, she sketched her fairy tale life with him. Despite everything, she still believed he was a good man. He needed the reward money to take care of his daughter.

All at once, she realized her mistake. Bellamy probably thought he was doing a good thing by taking her home to her fiancé. As soon as he understood that she was running for a reason, he took care of her instead. If he had told her, she would have understood. In retrospect, there was nothing off beam with what he had done. He recognized her in the bar, needed the money, but her attitude reminded him too much of Octavia’s, so he investigated and decided against turning her in.

Too bad she didn’t have a phone anymore. Bellamy insisted even a burner phone was too traceable. Tears flowed as the hurt on his face wrestled for attention. When he came home, he would be crushed. _Do you trust me, Clarke? All of me?_ _Just trust me._ He planned to tell her his secret, the same way she did. He needed her to have faith in him and she didn’t. She deprived him of the chance to follow through on his promise.

Staring out the window, the images rocked and wobbled along with the bus. She tried to use it as a distraction for the biggest mistake of her life, but pictures of his face painted itself in her mind. He was gorgeous in any expression; especially when he smiled. And when he had Madi in his arms, his delight was in high definition. Her heart broke – she missed him. There was no point in denying that she had fallen in love faster than she could say the word.

As the sickly brakes of the bus screeched to a stop, she ran for the door. Maybe she didn’t have his number, but she could borrow someone’s phone and call the bar. Atom would help her out. Perfect. Clarke power-walked to a diner down the street and slipped into a lonely booth in the corner.

“Good evening,” the waitress said. “Here’s a menu. Can I get you something to drink so long?”

“Um, yeah, a cup of coffee would be great, thanks.” With her sweetest smile she asked, “Can I perhaps borrow your phone, mine broke, and I really need to call my boyfriend to come get me. I’ll even pay you for it.”

The friendly southern girl said, “Oh sure, sugar, let me just get it for you.”

Uttering a relieved sigh, she thanked her. Now she could only hope for Atom to answer, Bree might be a bitch about it. The girl handed her the phone and poured her coffee. Her patience wore thin with the snail pace of the phone. Waiting for the bar’s website to load, Clarke bit down hard. _Please, please, please work._ She jotted down the number and dialed it. _Atom, pick up._

“Hello,” Atom’s voice said on the other line.

“Atom, hi, it’s Karen. My phone died and I need Bellamy’s number urgently.”

“Oh, hey, Karen. Sure, just hold on a sec.” She heard the click of buttons in the background. “Okay, it’s 910-434-7656.”

“Thank you so much. See you tomorrow. Bye.”

“See ya. Bye.” He ended the call.

She entered the number. Her heart jumped for joy.

“Karen, it doesn’t suit you.” A voice said. A voice she would recognize anywhere. The phone dropped from her hands as she went numb. “Well, are you not glad to see me?”

“How did you find me?”

“Your boyfriend’s ex does not like you meddling.”

“Echo?”

His smirk grew from ear to ear. “Yes, Echo.”

***********************************

“Babe, we’re back,” Bellamy called as they came through the front door. “How are you feeling?” He walked into an empty bedroom. “Clarke?” The bathroom was vacant too. His heart pounded, fearing the worst. There was no sight of her in the garden or anywhere else.

“Where is she, Daddy?” Madi asked.

“Baby.” He bent down to her level. “The bracelet you gave her, you said Mommy helped you. Did you tell her it was for Clarke?”

“Yes, I said I wanted to make Daddy’s new girlfriend a present and Mommy said it was a good idea and I said –“

Bellamy cut her off. “Madz, Daddy’s gonna take you to aunt Emori’s. I have to find Clarke.”

“Where is she?”

“I’m not sure. I have to look for her.” He kept his tone even to avoid alarming her.

“But I wanna go with you.”

He did not have time for Madi’s tantrums right now. “You can’t. You have to go to aunt Emori’s. End of story.”

“But…”

“Madi Blake.” He cautioned with a strict face. Using whirlwind speed, he gathered her things and hopped in the car. In the rearview mirror, he noticed her crossed arm pout. Murphy and Emori stayed right around the corner. Upon arrival, they were out of the car even faster. Madi didn’t say a word. She turned her back on him while he knocked.

“Blake, what’s the occasion?” Emori answered.

“Hey, listen can you take Madi for a while?” Leaning closer to his friend, he whispered. “Might be longer, you may have to take her to school tomorrow.”

“Blake, good to see you!” Murphy joined his girlfriend at the front door.

“What’s going on?” Emori hushed.

“Clarke’s gone.”

Both their eyes went wide. They knew about Clarke being a fugitive, but they were empty on the backstory.

“Come in, Madz.” Emori took her hand. “You can help me cook and I have ice-cream for dessert.” Madi followed her with an evil glare in his direction.

“Bye, sweetheart, I’ll see you later. Love you.”

She didn’t greet him. Even though he wanted to squeeze her tight, he left her. He would make up for it once Clarke was safe. Without worrying about speeding limits, he raced to Echo’s and banged on the door. Her footsteps came down the stairs. Covering herself in a robe, she opened.

“What did you do?” he hollered, pushing past her.

With furrowed brows, she asked, “What’s going on, where’s Madi?”

“Don’t you even try to play dumb with me. Where is she?”

“Bellamy, I have no idea what you’re talking about? Please don’t tell me you left my daughter with her.”

His fists balled on instinct, a wave of rage swept through him. “Where is she?”

Echo patted her hands on his chest. “Calm down, is Madi okay?”

He grabbed both her hands and squeezed. “You know very well Madi is fine. You called him, didn’t you? And if you lie one more time, I will call the cops, don’t test me.”

Echo uttered a wicked laugh. “Yeah right. You know he has all the cops in his bag, and Miller, he can’t do anything. Forget about her, let’s just go on with our lives.”

“Echo,” he oozed through gritted teeth, wanting to throw something at her. “Tell me where they are.”

“Why? Bellamy, you’ve got to stop. You can’t go on like this. It’s taking over your life. Letting a complete stranger squat with you so you can use her as bait?”

He shook his head with slow movements, incapable of grasping the woman he once loved. “You know nothing. She wasn’t bait.”

“Okay, so what do you call someone you used to lure someone else in? A pawn?”

“I’m not doing this with you.” He flipped to the door; it was clear she would be no help.

Echo tugged his arm back. His spiteful eyes communicated _I have nothing more to say._ Ignoring him, she palmed his cheek. “Just leave it, Bellamy. She’ll be fine. Come back to us. Let it all go and move back home. He promised me he would let us be, he wouldn’t touch you.”

Bellamy scoffed. How she still thought he felt a shard for her after four years apart was ludicrous. “Do you use Madi against him? Your own daughter? Is that how you got him to cooperate all these years? Hell, you probably asked him to kill Octavia because she hated you.”

Her eyes almost jumped out of their sockets. “You know?”

“Which part? That Madi’s not mine? That you manipulate him? That he owns the bar or that he killed Octavia. I know everything, Echo. I never used Clarke. I was trying to save her from him. Me and her, we could have taken him down. Now you’ve wasted everything. And if anything happens to her, I…” _will kill you._

“Oh, cute.” She clapped her hands, giggling. “You’ve fallen in love with her.”

“I have and I will save her.” He stormed out of _his_ house writhed with desperation. He would find her. Together, they would expose him. And then, he would take Madi away from Echo. He pulled out his phone and made the dreaded call to Clarke’s mom.

Abby answered after a few rings. “Bellamy, hi.” Her tone relaxed, last time he checked in with her, Clarke was safe.

“I have some bad news. He’s found her.”

Abby gulped. “No. How?”

“My ex-girlfriend recognized her and blabbered.”

“Do you have a plan?” Abby’s voice was frantic.

“I don’t have a clue where to start looking.”

“His house. You will have to find a way in, can you do that?”

“I…” He struggled to keep the tears at bay. “I don’t have an address.”

“Raven sent it to me, right before… Well, you know.” He knew all about the horrible death Raven suffered trying to snoop for proof.

“Let me just find it.” He heard Abby scurrying around in search of the address. “Got it. 214 12th Street, Capitol Hill.”

“Okay. But Abby, what if…” There was a possibility that Clarke would become another victim of his blade before they made it back to DC. Or worse. She already had.

“Don’t think that way. Bellamy…”

“Yes?”

“You’re different.”

_I’ve fallen in love with your daughter._ “I’m worried, that’s all.”

“Okay. Good luck. Please, bring her home.”

“I will. I promise.” It was an oath he would die keeping. All he could hope for was that Clarke was still alive. Right as he ended the call with Abby, he phoned Miller.

“Blake, they still have nothing on you.”

“Miller.” It was not the time to get on Bellamy’s wrong side. “Would it kill you to say hello.”

His friend picked up on his annoyed tone. “What’s wrong?”

“They found Clarke.” It still felt surreal.

“Shit, man.” Miller knew Bellamy would swim the Atlantic to keep her safe. “How?”

“Echo.”

“Of course. What do we do?”

“I have his address. I only need your help getting in.”

“I’m still at the station.”

“On my way.”

“Bellamy,” Miller yelled as he was about to hang up. “Wear all black, you’ll have to be invisible.”

He did as instructed and secured his gun before picking Miller up. With a full tank, they hit the highway to DC.

“This place will probably be highly secure,” Bellamy said.

“Best would be to trail in behind them, hide, and then slip in unseen as they enter the house.”

Outwardly he tried to remain calm, but inside, he was shaking. He had spent years trying to take down Cage Wallace for everything he had done. Every time a little bird tattled and Cage retaliated with Gladiator force. Until the last time, when he worked with Abby and Raven. Their investigation had been top secret.

***********************************

“Why are you looking for me?”  Clarke subtly pressed the green dial button on the fallen phone next to her.

Cage leaned forward. “I’m your fiancé, Clarke. Of course I’ll be looking.”

“I don’t want to marry you.”

“Babe, I understand wedding jitters. We can work through it. You and I, we can get through anything?”

Clarke snorted at his innocent act. “You raped and killed my best friend.” She kept her voice low.

“Raven,” he said her name like it physically pained him. “No, did he tell you that? What happened to her was terrible.” Cage answered the question that had been dancing around her mind for the last few weeks. He didn’t know that she knew.

Her face conveyed _I’m done with your lies._ “How did you find me?”

His gaze dropped to Madi’s gift on her arm. “Amazing the creations kids can come up with nowadays.”

“So this bracelet led all the way to Burgaw bus station?” Clarke enunciated her location, hoping Bellamy was on the other end of that line. “How d’you get here so fast?”

“I was around for business.”

Clarke’s head dipped, knowing that business was undoubtedly her. “What business?”

“Look, babe, I came here to take you home. We can forget this ever happened and move on with our lives. I haven’t canceled any of the wedding plans. I always knew I would find you.”

“Tell me everything and I’ll consider it.” She took the route of beating him at his own game. “Everything, Cage.”

“Clarke,” he folded her hand into his. The touch compelled her hairs to stand on end. “Everything he told you was a lie. I got him fired. He wants revenge.”

“That sweet, naïve and giving girl you were engaged to. She’s dead. She died when she walked in on you raping and murdering her best friend. Now tell me.” She pressed an unmanicured finger into his chest. “Or I make a scene.”

“Fine, calm down. But we do this on my terms. I tell you and you come home. No word of this ever again or I’ll kill him. I have men on standby right now. Don’t try me.” His eyes swept over the place, ensuring their seclusion. And his expression nonchalant as if he had just told her they would have red velvet cake for their wedding.

“Deal.” They shook hands. If going home and marrying him warranted Bellamy’s safety, there was no thought necessary.

“Bellamy started working at one of my hotels when he was sixteen.” Cage fell into the story. “At first, he scrubbed toilets and made beds. His leadership and planning skills were exceptional. Easily, he worked his way to the top.”

Clarke leaned in. She did not expect Bellamy’s personal involvement.

“When he became manager, the hotel profits almost doubled. So, I asked him to Gordon Ramsey the other hotels too. But he became too smart for his own good, figured out we were embezzling.”

Slowly, realization dawned on her. Bellamy would mean his downfall.

“So, I destroyed his proof, framed him for theft, and got him fired. Oh uh and I screwed his fiancé.”

“Madi’s yours?” Clarke gasped.

Cage nodded. “Anyway, with no reference and no college education, his future was bleak. Echo found out I was running for senator and threatened to say I raped her, which I didn’t, unless I helped. Keeping my identity hidden, I then got Bellamy the job at the bar and sponsored his little fighting league. It spun in my favor though, Bellamy turned the bar into a well-oiled machine and he takes good care of my daughter.”

The plot thickened more and more with each stretch.

“But he just wouldn’t back down.” Cage’s knuckles turned white as his hands clenched with anger. “He and that cop friend launched their own private investigation, still trying to expose me. They kept it quiet since the hotel still paid for his pretty sister’s education.”

How did she not fit the lid to the pot before? Internship in DC. Affair. Threatening boyfriend. “You murdered Octavia?” She kept a straight face while her insides were crumbling.

“Not before I had my fun with her, now she was a great fuck.” Joker’s leer clung to his face. “And not technically, no.”

“Meaning you paid someone to do your dirty work?” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Come on, Clarke. I thought this was show and tell. We have a deal.”

It was a threat she knew he would follow through on.  “Sorry, go on.”

“He got the message and backed down. Told the cops only what he knew. I had no idea he had his sights set on you. When you disappeared, I checked him out first and nothing suggested he was guilty. He had an alibi for each incident. Until Echo called about a new girl he had hired. See, I think he wanted me to find you. He had a plan. That’s why I planted that evidence in his apartment. Waited patiently for you to stumble upon it and run away. And you, you played right into my hand.”

Clarke shook her head, half-smiling at the ridicule. “How does Raven fit into all of this?”

“No, Raven just happened to search for the snake in the grass when I was supposedly out of town. I caught her and well, you know the rest.”

She fought an intolerable urge to strangle him. He did unspeakable things without batting an eye and couldn’t even say the words. “Yes, I do know. You raped her and forced pills down her throat to make it look like suicide.”

Cage shrugged, pushing out his lips like _you say potayto and I say potaato._ “Okay, now that it’s out of the way. Let’s go.” The man had no conscience.

She wanted to run; it had become her default setting. She wanted to yell and divulge, but one push of a button on his phone would end in Bellamy’s death. She had been a fugitive and an alcoholic for the last few weeks, yet nothing prepared her for going home and marrying a psychopath.

With her head held high, she took his hand and followed him to the car. His guards surrounded them; there was no way that Bellamy could have saved her, even if he answered the call. One of his guys opened the door, and she eased in. Becoming a senator’s fiancé once again. Tomorrow, photos of her happy return would be all over social media. He had won again. And Bellamy lost. And she lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, everything revealed. I'm really sorry about Madi's parents. My sister, who proofreads for me, pointed out a few changes in chapter 7, so I will fix and post it within a few days. Please feel free to send me some new fic ideas as well! For those that don't know me, you can find me on Twitter/Tumblr @girlobsessed21.


	7. Checkmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. WARNING: This chapter does contain a very disturbing scene.

**Chapter 7**

They rode in silence. Her stare out the window brought back earlier memories. Her heart shattered again. She died inside. Clarke Griffin was dead. A little more than an hour later, the smooth limo ride came to a crashing halt. Throwing her against the screen with a strong force.

“What the…” Cage started raging

The screen went down. The driver turned around to face only her. With a shock, Clarke realized Bellamy sat in the driver’s seat. He looked her in the eye, trying to convey a message she didn’t understand. When he pressed a button, she unraveled it. Her body acted on adrenaline. She leaned over and opened Cage’s the door. Using all her strength she kicked him out, exactly like she was taught.

Cage grabbed ahold of her leg as he fell. His bouncers came rushing from the cars on both sides. Bellamy jerked the limo into reverse and slammed on the gas. With sharp force, she kicked at Cage’s hand; he wouldn’t let go.

“Close the door,” Bellamy yelled.

She grabbed the handle. Cage’s grip slowly loosened as the car moved, but he was too stubborn. The car changed direction. With her toes, she scraped at his fingers. Vertigo tipped her; Bellamy swerved the car left, and she fell back onto the seat. Once she regained her balance, she pulled the door shut with the steep inclination of acceleration.

“You okay?” Bellamy asked while she reclaimed her breathing.

A roaring laugh escaped her. He had saved her. Again. “I love you!”

He huffed. “I love you too.”

“You lied to me.” It was somewhere between a joke and disappointment.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I lied for a reason, I swear. I was planning on easing you into it. I never used you.”

“I know.” She threw her arms around him from behind. “So what now?”

“Now we run until we’ve figured out a way to expose him.”

The security cars trailed and bumped them. Bellamy’s foot floored. Driving a limo wasn’t easy. No matter how fast and smart he diverged, they kept a close distance. “Clarke,” he yelled. “We’ll have to jump and run.”

“From a moving car?”

“No, I’ll bring the car to a sudden standstill to distract them. They’ll shoot. You must run faster than ever before. The trees here are dense. We can slip them.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, you ready?” He stomped on the brakes. “One, two, three.”

Clarke opened the door, squeezed her eyes, and jumped. She soared through the air until her body hit the ground with a piercing sting. Ignoring the pain, she pushed herself up and ran with no idea where Bellamy had landed. Doors slammed. Earsplitting gunshots fired. There was no looking back. She flew through the grass. Her heart beating at the same tempo as her treads. A few minutes into the woods, her foot got stuck in a branch. She stumbled face first into the ground. Blood gushed from her knee where it hit the sharp end of a big rock. There was no time to stop for a casualty. She had to keep going.

“Clarke,” she heard Bellamy’s puffs behind her. “We have to hide. They’re not far behind.”

They kept running south for a while up to the point where they were embraced by an expanse of greens and chilling sounds. Upon Bellamy’s instruction, they lay low in a blanket of grass. Mute. For what felt like hours. The following footsteps ebbed and flowed. Night couldn’t be distinguished from day in the vastness of trees.

Bellamy inspected her injuries as the morning sun baked the earth. “It doesn’t look good,” he said, plastered with worry. “We’ll have to get some antiseptic.”

“I stole your money.” She pulled the cash out where she hid it underneath her clothes.

“Okay.” His forehead wrinkled. “Taking from me is not stealing, but why did you take it?”

Then it was Clarke’s turn to frown. “What do you mean why? I needed money to run away.” And then she solved the riddle between them. “Oh, I found evidence that you were spying on me and I ran. But I realized my mistake. I was about to call you when he found me. Apparently, he planted the evidence.”

Bellamy appeared speechless, probably because of her mistrust. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should never have doubted you.”

“It’s fine, Clarke. We need to get to civilization, your leg might be infected.” It wasn’t fine. Everything that went wrong was her fault.

“If you were just honest with me-“

He didn’t let her finish. “We don’t have time for this. You made a mistake. I made mistakes. Let’s go.”

The quiet hung between them, he wouldn’t admit it, but he was hurt. Her ache grew with each step until the pained numbed completely; as if her leg had been amputated. Like two vampires, they entered a small town right before dusk. Keeping a low profile, they hid in an abandoned alley.

Bellamy touched her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “You stay hidden, I’ll go buy some clothes and supplies. Can I have my money back?”

She handed him the notes and sunk down to the floor, wanting to cry. He was still mad. The wait terrified her for two reasons. One, she feared he wouldn’t return and two she dreaded her own discovery. Her heart pulsed, her hands clammed. Every noise was a threat. Time crept by slowly. She counted the seconds. Nearing footsteps sent her hiding behind a waste bin.

“Babe,” his voice was the pied piper's flute luring her from her spot.

“Let’s find a place to clean up.” He pulled her to him and held her close on the long search for a public bathroom. They slipped into the disability door when they finally stumbled upon one.

“So much for our morning showers,” she tried to joke, but it fell flat.

Bellamy didn’t even look up from where he was hunched forward, pulling clothes out of a bag.

“Bellamy,” she turned his face towards her. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. So am I.”

“Wait, are you blaming yourself for this? Is that what’s going on?”

His eyes closed along with a deep sigh. “Yes, I should have just told you, but I was so scared you would run away again.”

“I get why you lied. This is not our fault.”

His nod did not instill any confidence. In fact, she feared he would always bear the guilt of his lie. Given the sensitivity, she let it go. After washing up, he cleaned her wound with sanitizer and cotton swabs before covering it with large Band-Aids.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

Hiding the pain from him, she said, “It’s fine.”

“Does it hurt, Clarke?”  His voice came harsher.

“Yes, Bellamy. It’s killing me, is that what you want to hear? I’ve been walking on a deep cut knee for almost a day now.”

He reeled her in, cradling her head in his chest. “You’re so strong. I’m so proud of you.”

“How d'you save me?” Clarke had been curious about his rescue mission since she discovered he was the driver.

“I got lucky,” he snickered. “When you called, Miller and I were already on the highway on our way to DC, so we were close by. Guards surrounded the place; there was no way in. Miller said we must stick to our original plan of following you to his house. But then one driver went to the bathroom. So I knocked him out, stole his uniform, and you know the rest.”

“Thank you.”

“Rule number one,” his voice was cruel but his eyes smiled.

“I think we’ve broken a lot of rules.” Her lips landed on his.

Bellamy pulled away. “As much as I would love to make out with you the rest of the night, we have to go.”

Without listening, she kept kissing him.

“Baby, we can’t do this now.”

“I love when you call me that.”

“So do I.” He gave her another quick peck before getting dressed. “Do you need me to carry you?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” It felt better. Not completely, one look at the cut told her it needed stitches, but she could walk. “Do we have a plan?”

“Eat this.” He handed her a protein bar. “We’ll have to hitch a ride. There’s a small quiet holiday resort not too far from here. It’s more like an abandoned retreat. No ID, cash only.”

Clarke sensed he knew from experience. “Have you used it before?”

“No, but I checked it out in case you were discovered.” He linked their hands as they walked towards the highway, begging for a ride. It took nearly four hours for someone to stop. A guy in his early forties, driving a barely there light green pickup truck.

The man rolled down the window. Chewing gum, he asked, “Where you folks headed?”

“Bellhammon,” Bellamy said. “But we’ll go as far as you can take us.”

“Hop in, I’m Mike,” he offered a hand to Bellamy.

“Ben.” Bellamy shook his hand. “And this is Donna.”

“You got yourself a pretty little lady there.” A mischievous grin mounted his stubbled face. 

Clarke felt Bellamy’s muscles tense at the insinuation in Mike’s voice. She could not feel safer though. One small punch from her boyfriend would send the man straight to the OR. Her first assumption of Bellamy was spot on. Mysterious. Dangerous. Only not to her. His mission was to protect her.

After the highly uncomfortable truck ride, they got another from a church bus. Where they sat squeezed between worshipping voices. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine…”

They took almost another day to reach their destination. Covered in sweat after their long walk from the main road to the resort. The place reminisced some of the worst horror movies Clarke had seen. Worse than the motels she had spent her days. At least she was drunk for those. From a distance, it appeared desolate.  Small wooden huts scattered across dead, unkept grass patches. Maintenance was not a priority. Rust and shavings peered out from everywhere. The whole scene a fading muddle. In the center, a sparkling blue pool stood like a swan princess among ugly ducklings.

Clarke found the reception. A white-haired lady peeked over her glasses. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I would like to rent a cabin for a few nights.”

The woman’s sour face remained. “It’s $150 per night.”

A hundred and fifty dollars was more than double she was willing to pay, but with no other options, Clarke contrived a smile handing her enough for three nights. “We might stay longer,” she said, having no idea how long they would have to hide for.

Without a word, the lady pushed her chair back. It squealed on the chipped brownish tiles. She handed her a key and pointed her toward cabin number 3.

“Thank you,” Clarke said on her way out.

“I don’t know about you, babe, but I’m hitting that pool.” Before she could answer, Bellamy grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the water. With all their clothes still intact, he splashed into it, never letting go of her. It was a necessary refreshment given their current situation. Wiping the water from her face, she came up for air. He enjoyed the game of dunking her between kisses. They raced and splattered, dived and caressed for hours. Until Bellamy’s stomach announced its need for food.

“I saw a shop further down. They should have something to eat,” he said, helping her out of the pool.

“I needed that.” She tucked herself under his arm on their walk.

“Have I told you I love you?”

“You did.”

“I may have loved you even before we met.”

She shot him an evil eye. “You should tell me the story.”

“I will, but first, food.”

Turned out the shop only had the essentials. Milk, instant coffee, toilet paper, sweets, and chips. Which they bought for the next few days. The man at the counter explained there were a shop and a bar down the road. They carried their measly possessions to the cabin. Shed may have been a better word to describe their temporary home. A single room, with a double bed and a kitchen smaller than their apartment. A merciless urine smell drifted through the place. Red and maroon checked sheets sprawled over the bed facing an aged TV on a timber cabinet.

Late afternoon rays shone in from the only window and snuck through the gaps in the wood. The bathroom could barely fit one person between the shower, toilet, and basin. “So still no shower sex,” Bellamy said as he came in after her.

“Who says you’re getting any kind of sex,” she teased with her hands glazing over his chest.

He pulled her arms away, linked them around his neck and kissed her. “Oh, I’ve seen the way you look at me. Like I’m a delicious treat you can’t wait to eat.”

“Mmmmm… you are.”

“Mmm… so are you, but I might pass out without real sustenance.” Bellamy wasted no time. He carried her on his back down the gravel road to the modest little pub. Inside, the low lighting and warmth of the staff shaped a cozy ambiance. It was empty inside, save for the old guys sulking in the corner. They ordered two burgers and she could tell he was dying for a beer, but on her expense, he asked for a coke instead.

“Have I told you I love you,” she echoed his earlier words where she sat across from him at the minuscule wooden table.

“You did,” he smiled, kissing the top of her hand.

“I did not love you before we met,” she joked. It was silly, but he laughed anyway.

“There’s one thing I don’t know that has been puzzling me since we met.” A deep frown formed on his forehead. “Why were you running away? Why were you so scared? Did he hurt you?”

Clarke shook her head. “No, never. He treated me like a princess. Did everything for me. He was the best fiancé any girl could ask for.”

“Which you deserve. See, that’s what I thought. You were oblivious to his dark side.”

She rolled her eyes. And told him the story of how she became a fugitive. “I went to a charity event in New York. The last day was canceled due to irregularities with some items.”

_Clarke checked her phone for flights. There was no point in staying any longer. Cage wouldn’t be home, but it did give her an opportunity to cook him a surprise romantic dinner for when he returned from his business trip._

_She booked the earliest one available which was the next day. After a long flight, she took a taxi back home. It poured. The struggle to open the umbrella had her soaked. Her bag got wedged in the door and limped behind the taxi as she watched it drive away._

_As usual, she breezed through the side entrance unseen. When she found the safety of home, she reveled in the hot water of the shower. Whilst dressing into something comfortable, the bedroom door opened. Just about to call, the figures came into view. Through the shrill opening in the walk-in closet door, she witnessed the ordeal._

_Cage dragged Raven inside, a gun against her head. Sweat glistened on both their foreheads. Clarke’s insides constricted, her feet bolted to the ground. Her eyes stretched wider than CDs as she watched Raven squeal in the arms of her fiancé._ What the fuck.

_“You bitch,” Cage said. “You think you can outsmart me, well that was a dumb move. You better cooperate or I’ll kill Clarke too. Don’t think I won’t.”_

_Clarke looked around for some tool to help her friend. All she could find inside her confines was the high heel of her shoes. She peered through the opening, waiting for the exact moment to attack when she caught a glimpse of Cage’s security-head at the door._

_“What were you trying to find.” Cage snarled into Raven’s ear. Her best friend’s lips didn’t move. “I will never be exposed,” came with an evil laugh as he shoved a pen into her hands. “Write!” he yelled. “Write a goodbye to Clarke.”_

_Raven stayed immobile. Clarke knew there was no way the strong woman would co-operate with his plan to simulate suicide. His threats turned erratic, including harm and death of everyone she loved until Raven succumbed to his overthrow. The letter was written and Cage shoved a whole bottle of pills down her throat._

_Her plan to attack was futile; they were surrounded. Nothing two women could do. Clarke dropped to the ground when the man she thought she loved defiled her friend in a semi-conscious state._

“I stood by idly as he raped and murdered her.” Tears engulfed her eyes as she recalled the memory she had been drinking away for so long. “I did nothing but hide and slip away in the middle of the night.”

Bellamy’s arms wrapped around her in a tight cocoon. “I’m so sorry. But there was nothing you could do. If you had, you would be dead too.” He waited until she had calmed down. “With your eyewitness proof, we can take him down. I know it’s no conciliation, but he’ll pay for what he’s done.” A deep need for vengeance seeped through his tone.

“Your turn,” she said still wrapped in his arms.

“He killed Octavia, and I was hell-bent on killing him, but I kept a low profile, out of fear for my friends and family.” His eyes brimmed with tears, but his body clenched in anger that could rip the table in half. “I said my reasons for doing this is selfish and it’s true. With a lot of research, I realized that you were a good person who needed protection from him. Obviously, I couldn’t contact you directly, so I reached out to your mom.”

Clarke’s eyes shot up to meet his. “You spoke to my mother.”

“Yeah, with her hatred for the guy, she believed me easily. But since you weren’t on speaking terms, our only link was Raven. Inherently her death was my fault. Octavia’s too.” His face sagged, adding ten years to his age.

“It’s not. He is to blame for all of this.” Her small hand wrapped around his, though she knew it wouldn’t bring much comfort.

“Anyway, my priority was to get you away from him and uncover him with your help, and then you disappeared. I was so certain he had killed you too. And then… you walked into my bar. That moment I believed in fate. You were the best and most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Fate. Yes, that would probably be the best description of the situation. “So what’s the plan?”

“We read the biggest papers. We find a trustworthy reporter, one that has integrity, that would crawl through gravel to uncover the story. No matter how long it takes.”

Clarke swallowed. “You think we’ll find one?”

With a certain nod, he said, “I already have one in mind, but I just want to make sure and I want you to be comfortable too.”

“So, I assume this would all be highly discreet.”

“Highly,” he agreed, kissing her forehead.

Her lip curled into a sneer. “Checkmate.”

“Checkmate,” Bellamy resonated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about Raven. That was horrible to write. I'm thinking the feelings might be a bit fast and overbearing, but with these two dorks, anything is possible. Always remember the situation their in.


	8. The final round

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the long wait for chapter 7, I've decided to post chapter 8.

**Chapter 8**

Nine days into their hiding, they managed to get Monty Green out there for the interview. For fear of being discovered, they kept themselves scarce. Staying inside most of the day; no interaction with anyone. Bellamy was almost certain the prune at reception recognized them, and he waited for a rampage, but they were ready. Worked out their momentary escape to the last detail.

The reporter they had chosen was a serious, no-nonsense journo, waiting for his big break. After days of reading his stories, Bellamy walked to the bar down the road to contact him. It took all but eight calls to get a hold of the guy, but his eagerness to do the story was boundless over the phone. There was a sincerity to his reporting style that made him the perfect candidate. It was hard for both of them to trust anyone, but it was their only hope.

Clarke's nerves were on end having to share her most terrifying experience with a complete stranger and the world. But his girl was stronger than he ever thought her to be. They had each other and together they aimed to conquer anything. Or so it felt at least. All the time spent inside, gave them plenty of opportunities to explore each other’s bodies. He loved her beneath him, on top of him, around him. Sending her over the edge had become his favorite hobby. Day after day he watched her lose all sense of reality while he moved inside her… No word in the English Dictionary existed to describe the satiated feeling.

Once this was over he would marry her. In any way she desired. He just wanted Clarke to be his forever. Not that he needed a piece of paper as proof. Their whole journey was a rush, making her his wife shouldn’t have to be any different. It seemed like a dream just out of his reach, one he couldn’t touch with more than his fingertips. The fear of Cage’s bulldogs sneaking up on them never faded.

He wiped his sweaty curls from his face while the apprehension stirred inside him. Monty could be working for him too. It was the biggest leap of faith he had ever taken.

“Baby.” Clarke sat up wrapping her arms around him. “Are you scared?”

Although he was terrified, he couldn’t let her see it. “No, everything will go smoothly.”

“You know,” she pulled him back to bed. “You can be honest with me. I’m scared too. Every small noise could be one of his men.”

“I should comfort you, not the other way around. You’re about to go public with a shocking story about someone you thought you loved and trusted.”

“I have you.” Her finger traced the lines and freckles on his face. “That’s all I need.”

His mission was accomplished. He couldn’t save his sister or Raven and Cage Wallace would face seven shades of hell for that, but he did save Clarke. And she turned out to be the love of his life, which was a lot more than he bargained for.

“Ditto. We have to get up. Green will be here soon.”

Clarke wasn’t pleased when he pulled her out of bed. Her sullen face resembled Madi’s pouts as she got up and ready for the “big day”. An ominous silence filled the room while they prepared for the interviewer's arrival. “Clarke,” he said when she stared at her face in the small bathroom mirror. “I’m right here if you need me. I’ll be holding your hand the entire time.” Without a response, Bellamy gave her some space. What she was about to do was distressing.

Five to nine there was a knock. Clarke froze in place. His own stomach lurched as he headed for the door. “Green algae,” the voice said. It was the code word they arranged over the phone. Still wary, he slowly opened to reveal the well-groomed Asian man.

“Mr. Green,” Bellamy offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Call me Monty.” He shook his hand and Bellamy waved him inside.

There was no other space to sit but the bed, where each of them took a seat. He noticed blood dripping out of Clarke’s lip where her teeth punctured it.

“Miss Griffin,” Monty started.

“Clarke,” she said with a nervous smile.

“Okay, Clarke. Let’s do this, fast and furious and get it over with. I must record it, unfortunately.” He placed a small video camera on top of the TV, zooming in on Clarke.

Clarke opened her mouth a couple of times, yet no words came out.

“I realize this is hard,” Monty said. “I swear I am on your side. No-one else even knows I’m here.”

Bellamy rubbed her shoulders to simmer her tension. Monty wasted no time. He tried to make the experience fast and comfortable. Asking only necessary questions, giving her time to recover between them as tears rolled down her cheeks.

For two hours Bellamy clutched her during the quest to destroy the man she once loved. He never had the proof to back up any of his accusations or suspicions, but she heard and saw everything first hand. She was the angel he had prayed for since the first time he came to know what a snake Cage Wallace really was.

“It’s over.” He rubbed her back in sympathy. “You did it.”

Monty packed his gear, thanked and greeted them before he left. Twenty-four hours was all they needed until their freedom. The hours ticked by slower than a Sunday drive. That night they didn’t have sex, he just her until she fell asleep and rocked her through her nightmares. He loved her so much.

Clarke wasn’t the only one whose dreams were filled with terrors. His own sleep led him down dark paths.

_Monty threw the door open with a mocking laugh. “Can’t believe you trusted me.”_

_Cage stormed in behind him with, followed by his guards holding a gun to Murphy, Emori and Miller’s heads._

_“Guess what!” Cage shouted. “You killed them too.” He then pointed a gun at Clarke and pulled the trigger._

_“Noooo!” Bellamy shouted jumping in front of the bullet._

“Belllamy! Bellamy, wake up!” Clarke shook him. He was covered in a pool of sweat when his eyes opened. “Are you okay? It was just a bad dream.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He was far from it.

“What if…” Her voice cracked. “What if Monty is legit and he does the article and Cage’s computer nerds take it down before anyone sees it.”

“We can’t think like that. We have to be positive, only a handful of people has to see it for it to go viral. But if that happens we try something else. We’ll just have to find another place to hide.”

“Yeah. I just want this to be over. I want to make amends with my mom. Go visit Raven’s family.”

Bellamy knew the feeling all too well. He feared for his friends and his daughter and wanted nothing more than to get back to them. “I know. We have to trust it will all work out.”

When morning came, he rushed to the TV to switch it on. Monty couldn’t run the article in the paper. Cage had too much influence and power in all industries. Instead, he posted the story on all social media platforms under a fake profile.

Cage’s smug face, his hands in cuffs, curses, and lies were all over the morning news. “Babe,” he woke Clarke next to him. “See this. It worked. We won.”

For the first time in weeks, he really breathed. Clarke burst out into laughter and tears of joy slipped out.

“He’s been arrested,” she exclaimed.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

Nothing could bring back those they’ve lost; all they could do was move forward. The court case was still ahead, but they would overcome that too. Monty arranged for someone to take them home, which was a welcome gesture, except for the number of reporters that bombarded the front door.

They were famous now. The entire world knew about them. With heads down, they bustled through crowds. Once they made it inside, Bellamy put Clarke to bed with a cup of sweet tea. She needed the rest with the difficult months ahead. Luckily, after a few days of torture, the storm calmed.

Weeks went by. Clarke held her head high, but he noticed the toll it took on her. Nowadays she seemed tired and pale. Of course, Cage’s legal team dragged the court case as far as they could. They tortured her in court and slandered her in the media. But the DA assured them the case was a sure win.

All he could do was support, rub her feet, cook her dinner, and encourage her to draw again. They kept their usual routine, training in the morning, breakfast, the bar. For the moment he had to keep fighting until he received restitution from Cage or another job. Even though he told Clarke she didn’t have to keep working, she insisted. Said it kept her mind off the situation and her eyes on him.

Clarke’s smile returned whenever Madi came to visit them. They played Barbie’s, watched cartoons and colored while he admired from the sidelines. No matter how badly he wanted to take her away from Echo, being with her mother was best. Echo had always been a good mom. At least they still had her every other day, which was all he desired now that Cage was in prison without a bail grant. Just them. The court case would soon be over and the day could not come fast enough.

“You enjoying this?” he whispered against Clarke’s ear.

“Gross, Dad. Stop kissing Clarke.” Madi whined.

“I’m not kissing her,” he protested.

“Kissing her ear is still kissing.”

Clarke laughed. “Madi.” She drew the girl’s attention from her doll. “How would you feel about a baby brother or sister?”

Madi looked to Clarke as if she had just asked a twelfth-grade math question.  “What?”

Bellamy wasn’t too sure what she was getting at either.

Clarke placed a hand on her stomach. “I mean I have a baby in my tummy that will be your little baby brother or sister.”

“Are you serious?” he yelled.

“Yes,” she nodded, beaming.

He ran around the couch and lifted her into his arms. “This is amazing. Are you happy, because I am so, so happy about this?”

“Ecstatic. The timing sucks, but we’ll figure it out. I was gonna tell-”

He kissed her sentence away with fervency. “We will figure it out. Come here, Munchkin.” He picked Madi up and held both, no, all three, close to his heart. The world be damned, they were all he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. Hope you enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual comments and kudos are welcome.


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